


Crash Into Me

by lc2l, paraka



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, M/M, Podfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 74,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lc2l/pseuds/lc2l, https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraka/pseuds/paraka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Kris ever thought of bonding, he thought of Katy. Not the American Idol, an aloof, self-proclaimed rock star in too much eyeliner and leather. He thought of marriage and love, not a last minute desperate attempt from a stranger to save his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> [LJ masterpost and notes](http://lc2l.livejournal.com/7147.html)

Podfic of opening scenes by paraka  
  
 **Podfic Download:** [MP3](http://parakaproductions.com/audio/AI8%20RPF-Crash%20Into%20Me%2001%20by%20lc2l-paraka.mp3)  
 **Length:** 29:48

Jump to end of recorded section

The last thing he remembers is slamming the door on her tearstained face. Running down the stairs, away from the apartment he never had any claim to. Pushing through the front door and onto the street, all his thoughts focused on escape.

He still isn't used to LA. The street is full of people who push back when he stumbles into them. The door opens behind him and she steps out, holding the door in one hand so it can't swing closed and lock her out.

The last thing he remembers is her voice. "Kris, wait. Kris, you don't understand," reasonable, upset then rising in panic. "Kris!"

He still isn't used to LA. Someone pushes him and he stumbles into the road, the road that is so much busier than the ones in Arkansas and there's a white van and everything seems to slow down.

The last thing he remembers is the road against his cheek, lying in a pool of blood, sure he's dying.

He doesn't die then.

*

"He's right there," someone is shouting. "He's right there and he's alive so _save him._ "

This feels like dying.

*

Kris wakes up. That's the first surprise, the second being the lack of pain. He can still feel his arms, his legs, right down to the tips of his fingers and toes and nothing hurts.

He isn't sure that he can move them, but he knows they're there. He can feel the softness of a blanket against his toes and the cool air against his fingertips.

The last thing he remembers - _pain, a van, a woman screaming -_ flashes through his mind but he pushes it away.

" _He's awake,_ " says a voice, and Kris can't say for sure if it's coming through his ears or if it just started inside his head. Perhaps it's both. " _Can I go now?_ "

Kris wonders if this is how angels talk, if he didn't survive the van and is lying in heaven somewhere. Except there are no feelings of bliss or the presence of the Lord so maybe... maybe the handful of lives Kris can say for certain that he's saved isn't enough to get you into Heaven these days. A handful of people isn't that many.

"I think you should stay for this." This man's voice doesn't echo in his head at all, so perhaps he isn't an angel. Kris opens his eyes slowly and sees a ceiling made from square tiles which evidently used to be white but have been in use long enough for the paint to yellow and chip.

It seems unlikely that the afterlife uses ceiling tiles, but what does Kris know?

" _You're not dead,_ " Adam says which is... Kris hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud but he must have. " _I need a drink._ "

Why is Kris thinking of him as Adam, anyway? The voice is familiar only in a niggling 'heard it somewhere once' kind of way and Kris can't remember anyone called Adam.

"Does he understand what we're saying?"

Kris doesn't understand anything right at this moment. His mind feels crowded and he is talking without realizing it. He wonders if he's on drugs. Morphine or something similar, for the pain he can't feel. Kris's dad was on morphine, after he got ill but before he bonded with Kris's mum. It was supposed to be addictive, though of course the bond took care of that too.

" _Yes._ "

His skin itches. That could be a side effect of morphine.

"Kristopher? Kristopher, my name is Dr. Sanders. I represent Holly Fields hospital and I need you to understand that the establishment takes no responsibility for what has happened to you and you have no grounds to pursue legal action against us." The man sounds uncomfortable, as though he's reading from some kind of script. "Due to the unusual circumstances of the procedure you are allowed to request a removal at any time."

_I have no idea what you're talking about,_ Kris thinks.

"He doesn't understand," Adam says. "I won't disappear or anything, I just really need a drink right now and - no, you're not fucking dead how many fucking times do I have to say it?"

Kris blinks because he is almost positive he didn't say anything that time, he was just quietly wondering if maybe this was hell and hell was just confusion and awkwardness forever.

"Adam -" Dr. Sanders starts to say, which means Kris's random guess of a name was right which is... kind of unsettling. Maybe he heard it while he was unconscious.

If Dr. Sanders is right and Kris is at a hospital, they must be treating him for the accident. He's on some kind of painkiller, one of the painkillers that doesn't actually numb anything but somehow removes all the pain so you can't even tell that you're injured and makes your skin itch uncomfortably.

"Sorry," Adam says. "But my head hurts and my skin itches and no one told me this was going to be a forever kind of deal. I just want to go back to my boyfriend, go to a bar and forget all this ever happened and _fuck,_ Kris Allen, can you shut up for five fucking seconds?"

Kris opens his mouth, then closes it again just to make sure that he wasn't saying anything.

"I'm really not qualified to deal with this. You should be here, you should definitely be here and if you could, maybe, take his hand or something?"

Adam snorts. "No fucking way. I did _not_ sign up for this." There is a clatter like something falling over. "No one told me this was going to happen, no one explained -"

"I'll call a magician up here, we can break -"

"You'll do no such fucking thing." The bed sags as a large shape enters Kris's peripheral vision and, slowly, something warm brushes against his hand.

Warm fingers close around his palm and the itching fades, starting from his hand and spreading across his body until he's left in a state of relaxation. He can move his toes and close his fingers around the hand. He opens his mouth again and is pretty sure that if he tried, he could talk.

His mind starts to pull itself back in order, starting with _my name is Kris Allen_ and working out through _I was hit by a van_ and _my girlfriend just left me_ until it reaches the very edges and somehow slightly beyond that to -

_His name is Adam Lambert._

Kris jumps and almost tries to look over his shoulder to find where the words are coming from. Then he opens his eyes fully and looks up at the man sitting on his bed and - yeah - his name is Adam fucking Lambert.

Shit.

"Yeah," says Adam Lambert (American idol, theatrical, _oh God oh God oh God_ ). "Shit."

Kris jerks backwards, but thankfully Adam doesn't let go of his hand because apparently one touch is all it takes for the itching to vanish completely and the headache to fade.

_Adam Lambert,_ Kris's mind is saying over and over. _Adam Lambert. American Idol. Rock star. What the hell is going on here?_

Dr. Sanders doesn't hesitate. The moment they've made eye contact he ducks away to do whatever it is doctors do when they're not confusing the hell out of their patients. "I'll let you explain, Mr. Lambert. Mr. Allen, I repeat, you are allowed to request an annulment at any time and the hospital is not liable for anything." The door to the room swishes shut behind him leaving Adam sitting on his bed and Kris with no idea what's going on except that Adam Lambert is _in his hospital room._

Also, you know, still holding Kris's hand. No explanation for that coming out either.

"Look, this isn't hard," Adam snaps, all of a sudden, as though Kris has been doing something terrible this entire time. "You just imagine throwing up a wall around your head. It doesn't have to be a good wall, it could be made of fucking sand for all I care because I have no interest on pushing at it but right now there is nothing and I don't actually want to know what you're thinking because if I'm honest I want nothing to do with you at -" He stops all of a sudden. Kris keeps visualizing the castle in his head and wonders if Adam is a magician or a psychic or just plain crazy.

"Thank you," Adam says and for a moment they sit there in silence, Kris wondering how long he has to visualize this wall and how Adam is in his head and also why the hell Adam is still holding his hand. "You have to speak out loud. I'm not a fucking mind reader."

Kris turns red and stares at the blanket because it's the only thing in his line of sight that isn't Adam. "I think I'm a little behind here." He says slowly, trying to prompt Adam for an explanation. "You're holding my hand."

Adam looks down as though this is surprising. His chipped back nail polish and perfectly soft fingers are pressed against Kris's rough palm. "Yeah," Adam says, then seems to realize that he still hasn't let go and tugs his hand back quickly. "I mean, whatever."

Kris's hand starts to itch, he reaches across to scratch it absently and then his wrists start to itch to which is just _annoying_ and Adam is still looking at him. "I'm not dead," he says slowly, waiting for Adam to contradict him.

"No," Adam agrees. "You are, however, beginning to sound like a bit of a broken record on that subject. You're not dead, you're still alive, your heart is beating. How many times do I have to say it?"

Kris turns redder. "I get it," he mutters, stretching out his arms before him palms out. No broken bones, no scars, not even any grazes. "It's just hard to believe. I... there was a van. Was there a van?"

Adam closes his eyes, remembering something that makes him wince. "Yes. There was a van."

"There was a van and I was... but I'm not dead? There's... you can kind of see why I might need reassurance. I remember feeling pretty dead." He moves his legs slowly to check if they work. "How long have I been here?" He hesitates because Adam seems to know him and maybe - "How do I know you? Are you... how long has it been? Have I forgotten -?"

"It's not amnesia," Adam says. "You were run over this morning, you died for about a minute early this afternoon. It's now evening."

Kris swallows. "I don't -" he starts, even though he's starting to see because - no - it can't be that...

Adam reaches out to grab Kris hand again, which feels so much better than not touching that Kris is starting to get worried, and turns both their arms over to expose the two forearms side by side.

Kris's mouth falls open a little.

He reaches forward with his free hand, tracing the Eye of Horus tattoo on Adam's arm then moving his hand to touch the same tattoo on his own skin. It's not the same style or the same design of tattoo, it is the same actual tattoo. Down to the tiniest detail.

"You have three guesses," Adam says. "And only the first one counts."

*

_"You have to leave," Katy said. Her hair was pulled back from her face as she stood in the kitchen of the tiny apartment. She looked at home there, in designer clothes with the newspaper open to the audition pages. She looked like an LA girl through and through, like she belonged._

_Kris couldn't remember ever belonging in any building. He didn't belong in the house in Conway, he didn't belong on any of the mission trips, he certainly didn't belong in this one bedroom den on the shitty side of LA. He didn't get attached to buildings, didn't like being tied down to one place._

_But he'd always thought of himself as belonging where Katy was. She was his rock, his anchor, the one stationary point in his life. He could go to Morocco or Thailand or Haiti and she would always be on the other end of the phone, waiting up when he got home to greet him with a smile and a kiss._

_If she belonged in this shitty LA apartment, he belonged there with her._

_Except, apparently, he didn't. "Is this about work? I can get work in LA, I don't mind living in LA."_

_She shook her head and he realized her eyes were red. "It's not about LA, Kris. It's about Haiti and Declan and what I need right now. What I've always needed, in fact."_

_"And what you need is a waster and drop out with less career prospects that the average footstool who can't afford gas or food or his own apartment."_

_"This is his apartment, Kris! I moved in with him, he asked me to bond with him." She reached back to tug the elastic out of her hair. "And you can't exactly talk about drop outs with no career prospects, can you, Mr_. _Just-One-More-Mission-Trip."_

_"You're going to bond with him?"_

_The rage drops from her face and she shakes her head in a way that means 'I'm tired' rather than 'no_. _' "I don't know. Maybe. I'm tired of sitting at home worrying that someone will get themselves killed because I couldn't save him."_

_"You don't think he's just using you for your body? Maybe he's ill and he just wants the medical benefits without caring that you'll be tied to him forever."_

_"Get out."_

_"I hope you and Declan are very happy together."_

*

"Are you okay?" Adam is sitting on the bed still, tracing the tattoo on his wrist over and over with one black-nailed finger. Kris stands by the window looking out over LA and wondering where Katy is now.

"Bonded," he says, for what must be the millionth time. Bonded, his body intrinsically linked to another so that if anything hurts one of them, their body just follows the template of the other person's to fix itself instantaneously. A magical procedure that allows couples - _established_ couples - to guarantee neither will die first, both of them aging gracefully together.

He can see Adam reflected in the window, his face lowered. "Yeah. Bonded."

"Why?"

Adam's face jerks upwards. "You were... they couldn't save you," he says, as though it should be obvious. Adam is a lot of things, but Kris has already established that obvious isn't one of them. Adam drops his head back into his hands. "If you want to break it... they promised they'd do it. Since you didn't consent."

Consent. Never mind that most bonds require at least six months of relationship counselling, large numbers of invasive tests and constant reminders that this is very serious and should not be entered into lightly. In an emergency situation - such as Kris's father's cancer - a long-established relationship could cut the pre-bond procedures to a week.

"I didn't know you could break a bond."

Adam drags a hand through his hair. "They can remove it but it's not... it would be like it had never happened at all. You'd still be..."

Oh. Kris swallows a little as he follows the lights of cars around the city. So if they broke the bond he would go back to just having been hit by a van.

"You'd be in hospital from the beginning," Adam continues. "They might be able to do something, something they couldn't do last time. But they couldn't put the bond back, if anything went wrong. It would be... that would be the end of it."

Meaning Kris would be dead. Permanently. Adam seems to be waiting for him to say something but all he can manage is "Oh."

Adam drags a hand through his hair and stands up. "I need a drink," he starts, but is interrupted by the door sliding open so Dr Sanders can re-enter followed by a middle aged woman in a peasant skirt and white blouse.

"Mr. Lambert, Mr. Allen, this is Ruby Evans, the hospital's resident magician. She's here to answer any questions you may have or, if you like, to break the bond between you." He hesitates, looking over at Kris's back. "Did you want to break the bond?"

Kris's church always stressed the importance of no bonding before marriage (and the reverend at his home church disapproved of it afterwards as well). Bonding should happen in a committed relationship, anything else was just selling your body out and over and over again people used to say that they'd rather die than bond for anything less than true love.

Anyway, Adam can't want this. He certainly doesn't look like he wants this and there can't be space in the world for a rock star whose skin itches every time he isn't touching a random stranger's hand. This was a bad idea all around and if it breaks it'll be like Kris never woke up, like this interlude was just some crazy dream and everyone can go back to their lives because most people don't survive being hit by vans so this clearly isn't part of any higher plan.

All three of them are watching him, probably analysing is every facial twitch reflected in the dark window. Kris opens his mouth to say 'break it' and what comes out is, "I don't want to die."

Adam looks away. Ruby Evans nods understandingly because apparently she's seen hundreds of people who aren't strong enough. "Adam?" she asks, and her voice is surprisingly soft.

"Well I'm not going to fucking kill him now, am I?"

Kris bites his lip, Dr Sanders takes half a step back and Ruby finds a sudden overwhelming interest in her shoes. Adam is tense for a long moment, then he drops on the bed and lets his head fall into his hands. "I didn't mean - I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Ruby shoos the doctor away with one hand and crosses to sit next to Adam on the bed, beckoning Kris over. "Okay," she says softly, taking both their hands in her own and pressing them together. "This is what I need you to do."

*

"Where do you live?" Adam asks, stiff and awkward. He released Kris's hand the moment Ruby left the room but was still sitting uncomfortably on the end of the hospital bed where Kris was lying, waiting for a doctor to check him over a final time and let him go. "I'll need your address and your phone number, obviously. I don't think the rest of what she said - she clearly doesn't understand our circumstances." He had repeated this theory many times while Ruby was in the room, and she had disagreed with it on every occasion. "If we just don't see each other, that's best."

Kris bites his lip because on the one hand Ruby is supposed to be the one who knows what she's talking about, but on the other hand she seemed to be suggesting he sleep with Adam. "So you think if we ignore our sacred mystical bond, it'll go away?"

Adam looks sideways at him. "Well anything's going to sound ridiculous if you say it in that tone of voice. Cold turkey works for alcoholics and it works for drug addicts. It can fucking work for a vague itchiness when you're not touching my hand." He looks down at the bed and realizes his fingers are inching closer to Kris's, apparently of their own accord.

He jerks them back fiercely. "She said regular sexual intimacy which as far as I can tell means go have sex. I have a boyfriend, you probably have a cute, blonde, wannabe-actress secreted away in some quaint southern town where I would be shot for daring to enter. You're alive, I'm alive, just tell me where you're living and we can go our separate -"

"I don't know," Kris interrupts. "Where I'm living, I don't -" he hesitates, unwilling to admit to Adam being right about anything. "My girlfriend just left me. I can't go back to where she's -" he swallows, trying not to remember Katy shouting at him about Declan's apartment, about moving in with him, about bonding. "My parents are in Arkansas but I can't go home with -" he turns his wrist over to show Adam's tattoo again, eerily perfect in the fluorescent lights. "I have friends back home but I can't afford a plane or gas so I guess..." he trails off, realizing the first time just how serious his situation is."If you can recommend any cheap hotels -"

Adam stares at him for a long moment, possibly in awe as to just how someone can have quite such a shitty turn of bad luck. "How much money do you have?"

Kris looks down at the hospital gown he's wearing. "That depends on whether anyone sees fit to return my wallet but I should be able to get into a hotel." He looks up into Adam's face. Adam's make-up is smudged, his hair is starting to fall down and his studded jacket looks completely out of place in the brightly lit hospital room but he is still very clearly a rock star. A very rich rock star. "For a few nights," Kris presses on. "And then I can probably find a cardboard box somewhere. You know, I'm resourceful that way."

Adam's face sours as though he knows he's being played but there really isn't anything he can do about it. "Come back to mine tonight then. We can figure out what to do about all this in the morning." He jerks his hand away from Kris's again, under the pretence of reaching up to check his hair. "I've always said I'd do anything for a fan. I didn't expect -"

"I'm not a fan," Kris throws out, mostly just because he's tired of being accommodating and wants to see the look on Adam's face. "Your music just isn't my kind of thing, sorry."

Adam looks as though he's just swallowed a lime. "I suppose you voted for _Danny._ "

"Yeah," Kris says, entirely to piss Adam off. In reality he'd voted for Allison right up until the finale when - yeah - he'd voted for Adam because Allison liked him and Danny seemed like an asshole. "He just seemed so _genuine,_ you know?"

Adam stares at him for a long, disbelieving moment then turns away. "Maybe I'll just pay for you to go into a hotel."

Kris opens his mouth to offer up some witty retort that he hasn't come up with yet but is interrupted by the door sliding open and Dr. Sanders re-entering with his clothes in a clear plastic bag.

"You're being discharged," she says kindly. "Clearly there's nothing wrong with you, and as long as Adam's here that will remain the case. Ruby asked me to give you her number in case of emergencies, and told me to remind you that the further apart you are, the worse it gets." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a business card, looking between the two of them for a moment before handing it to Adam who looks at it for a moment then passes it on to Kris.

Apparently whoever designs his ridiculous jackets doesn't cater for needs such as pockets. Kris programs the number into his phone and slides the card into his jeans.

"A car has been sent for you, it's around the back and I had a word with the driver to make it clear that you needed rest and were to be taken straight home."

Kris opens his mouth to say he's fine, but Adam slams a gloved hand over it. "That's great, thank you."

Dr. Sanders looks briefly between the two of them. "Stay to the back staircase so the paparazzi don't catch a glimpse of you through the front windows, and you can rest assured no one in this hospital will breathe a word about the _unusual_ nature of your situation."

Adam keeps his hand over Kris's mouth until Dr. Sanders lets the door close behind her, and then takes it back so he can drop his head into his hands. "Fuck, I didn't even think - _fuck._ How the fuck is this going to look? There are photos of me and Drake from yesterday. I'm supposed to be the good guy, I won American Idol, I played at fucking _Disneyland._ "

Kris has no idea what to say, but he feels a slight tinge of guilt for winding Adam up earlier so reaches out to tap Adam lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry."

Adam just lets out a low moan of despair. "Lane is going to _kill me._ "

*

Dr. Sanders told the driver that they needed rest so that he would take them straight home and Adam wouldn't have to face a business meeting. This turns out not to matter so much, because the business meeting arrives at the house less than five minutes after they do. Adam barely had time to show Kris the ridiculously extravagant main room and the kitchen, where he turned on the coffee machine and - after much searching through poorly stocked cupboards - locates a packed of oreos.

Kris brushes his fingers across the tattoo while Adam searches the cupboards. His mum had got his dad's birthmark when they bonded, and he had got her ear piercing. Kris eyes the large holes in Adam's ears and is very glad he didn't get those. "What did you get?" he asks.

Adam looks over at him, then tugs up the t-shirt he's wearing to reveal Kris's surgery scar snaking down his side. "Coffee?" he asks, at the same moment as the business meeting arrives.

"I cannot believe," the blonde woman Adam addressed as Lane says, touching about a hundred icons on her iPhone at the same time. She arrived with two bodyguards and three more men in suits, but somehow managed to leave them all in the entrance hall so it's only her, Adam and Kris in the study. "That you would be this stupid."

Adam drops onto the chair behind the desk and rests his head in his hands. Kris had followed them through to the study when Adam beckoned, but now he's here he just hovers in the doorway, unsure of where to go. Lane sits on the desk next to Adam and reaches out to rest her fingers on his shoulder.

"I rearranged all your meetings for today by telling people you were busy. We need to decide what to say about Drake -"

Adam's head jerks up. "What happened with Drake?"

"You went into hospital with him and he came out alone three hours later with a splint on his nose. Which - might I add - I had to find out from TMZ which is already playing the domestic violence angle for all it's worth, not helped by the fact that the hospital has been saying 'no comment' in a way that means they clearly have nothing to hide. Now, I am the one who covers up all your shit so I need to know, did you hit him?"

Adam shakes his head quickly. "Of course not. Is that... is he saying that?"

"He isn't saying anything yet. Apparently the doctors told him to take it easy so he went home to bed. There are paparazzi camping on his lawn, I look the liberty of sending a few guys over to keep him in one place when he wakes up. They'll call me at any moment. How did he break his nose?"

"I opened a door without realizing he was on the other side," Adam says tiredly, dropping his head back into his hands. "It's fine, we laughed, he's not going to make a fuss." His eyes flick up to Kris, standing in the doorway. "Believe me when I say, Drake is _not_ our biggest problem right now."

Lane turns to look at Kris as well. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Kris," Adam says. "This is Lane, my PA and general miracle worker. Lane, this is Kris Allen... my bond."

Lane drops her iPhone, looking from Adam to Kris and back again. "Please tell me you're joking."

Adam shakes his head weakly and nods to Kris, who holds out his forearm with the tattoo upwards. "He was hit by a van, it was the only way to save his life."

Lane slides off the desk and starts pacing up and down at a rate that will probably wear a hole in the very expensive carpet. "You-" she says, stopping to turn on Adam. "What the _fuck_ were you thinking?"

Kris follows her gaze, unable to help being curious himself. Adam just shakes his head. "I don't know. He was dying. I couldn't just let him die."

"You're _damn well_ going to let him die. You're going to walk right back to that hospital and get them to break this bond then you're going to go to a very expensive restaurant with your _boyfriend_ and let the paparazzi take photos of you feeding each other pasta and kissing each other and having a wonderful time and _maybe_ the label will let us both keep our jobs."

Kris flinches and Adam lets out a low, dangerous sound. "You're going to lose yours a whole lot quicker if you follow this through."

Lane drags a hand through her hair and starts pacing again. "He's already dead, Adam. What you're giving him now - it's just borrowed time."

"I'm not going to kill him."

"It wouldn't be killing him, it would just be... stepping out of the way." She looks imploringly at Kris who bites his lip and stares at the floor so he doesn't have to think about how he's going to ruin Adam's life.

"No," Adam says, and when Kris looks sideways he sees Adam is watching him. "Unless you know a way for us to break the bond with no risk, it stays. Kris can stay hidden, no one has to know." He beckons and Kris steps into the room fully, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Lane looks between the two of them then sighs. "Fine. But no one is allowed to find out. _No one._ And you have to break up with Drake now."

Adam looks away from Kris instantly. "What? Why?"

"Because when - and I mean _when_ \- this all falls apart, you cannot be seen to have been juggling two guys." She crouches down to pick up her phone. "Drake's going to have to have been cheating on you," she says, as Kris sits on the desk. "We say he's been with someone else, they got violent - we can't name names - and you found out. You took him to the hospital, and while there you both talked and agreed that a split would be best. Naturally you're distraught but you can't be with anyone who's unfaithful and what with the tour you're happy to know that he won't be waiting for you." She types impossibly quickly into her phone and fires something off, holding up a hand when Adam opens his mouth to interrupt. "No complaining. You want to keep cheating death for this boy, this is what you have to give up. Drake has to come over less and be gone before nightfall. Ideally we need photos of him with someone else. Now -" she turns. "-Kristopher. I'm going to need you to sign a non disclosure agreement. Does anyone know you're here? Friends? Family?"

"I-" Kris glances at Adam then shakes his head. "No one even knows I was injured. My family, they know I'm in LA but they think I'm living with my girlfriend. I need to call them."

Lane is already reaching into her bag and pulling out some papers. "You need to sign these before I can let you call anybody. You will not mention Adam or the bond to anyone outside of this room. If you want to leave this house, you call me and I will arrange it. There can be no photos of you and Adam together. None. If you have sex, you have it in a room with no windows."

"We're not -" Kris says at the same time as Adam jumps and says "It's not like that."

Lane looks between the two of them with a slight frown. "As for the tour, we might have to sneak you on as a roadie, get all the guys to sign more -"

"He's not coming on the tour," Adam interrupts.

Lane frowns further. "I thought these things required contact, proximity, that sort of thing."

Kris turns bright red, Adam doesn't meet anyone's eyes. "This isn't that sort of bond. It's the 'I don't know you but you were hit by a fucking van so I'll heal you then we can leave each other alone forever' kind of bond."

"Then why is he here?"

Adam looks over at Kris who is wearing all the clothes he owns and has - as they discovered when they checked his wallet in the car - less than fifty bucks to his name. "Because I'm not going to save him from death by van then leave him to starve slowly on the streets."

"I thought the point of the bond was that as long as one person was alive and healthy, the other was alive and healthy. Surely that means as long as you're -"

"Well it would still suck," Adam snaps. "He's staying here, he can keep staying here when I leave for Glamnation and -" he breaks off at Kris's snort. "What?"

Kris tries hard not to laugh any more than he already is. "Glamnation? You called your tour _Glamnation?_ "

"Well," Lane says. "This won't last a week."

*

Lane leaves after a brief discussion about dancers and costumes that Kris zoned out of because Adam's hand had absently inched forward until their fingers were brushing together and Kris had done his best to store the soothing feeling against his fingertips for the inevitable moment when Adam noticed and jerked away.

That moment is delayed for a while, Adam not moving as Kris scrawls his name on Lane's papers and she leaves. "You know what they said to me," Adam says.

Kris looks around and Adam clearly knows that their touching because he's staring at the way their fingers are almost interlaced but still only barely touching. "What?"

"When I won," Adam clarifies. "When they first signed me. They looked me right in the eye and said the first sign of my lifestyle being anything less than completely wholesome and I would be over before I could say Jim Verraros."

"Who?"

Adam raises his head to look into Kris's face, his eyes despairing. "Exactly. And Drake, Drake is the one good thing to happen to me in who knows how long and this tour is taking so much more out of me than I thought it would. I've been exhausted since the fucking finale and every time I so much as look around it feels like I'm pulling my life apart even more." He laces their fingers fully so he can turn Kris's arm over and examine the tattoo. "I thought I was getting too old for all this but bonding? I'm too young."

Kris swallows and tugs his hand away, even though it means soon the ache and the itch will return. "Are your parents bonded?"

Adam laughs weakly. "My parents aren't _together,_ Kris. I suppose your parents are devout Arkansas Christians who are married and bonded and will stay together forever or whatever."

"They're bonded," Kris admits. "But it's not because... my dad got ill. Cancer. My brother and I were still young, mum couldn't have raised us on her own. My church... they don't approve of bonding at all. There were all these sermons about how it would be better to be dead than in a loveless bond and -" Kris is carefully not looking at Adam and he doesn't even realize he's shaking until Adam's hand presses on top of his. "I wanted to say break it," Kris whispers. "I don't want - I don't want any of this but I was too scared of -"

"It's okay. I - I wasn't trying to make you change your mind." He squeezes tight for a moment. "We'll get through this. It's just a bit of discomfort. We can push through, come out the other side then you can go home and I can get back together with Drake and it'll just be something that's there and we don't have to worry about." He pulls his hand away and pushes the phone on the desk towards him. "I'll get food delivered. Call your parents."

Kris takes the phone obediently and waits for Adam to leave the office before leaning over to the keypad and typing in his home number - why does Adam have a mainline phone, anyway? Kris had always assumed everyone under thirty used cell phones these days - and is distracted thinking about the warmth fading from his fingers that when his mama answers, he half drops the phone in surprise.

"Hello, Allen residence."

Kris catches the phone between his last two fingers and presses it quickly to his ear. "Mama? Mama, it's Kris."

"Kristopher," she exclaims, and for an instant Kris wishes she was right there in the room with him, giving one of her big warm hugs full of love and reassurance. "The caller ID didn't pick you up, where are you calling from? Is that Katy's apartment in LA?"

So Katy hasn't phoned, or her parents haven't spoken to Kris's. Kris pulls his copy of the non disclosure agreement closer, trying to work out what he's agreed to. "It's, no. I'm not at Katy's. She - she has someone else." The words sound strange coming out of his mouth. Finding out about Declan, being dumped by Katy, it all feels like it happened a long time ago.

Kris has died since then, after all.

"Oh _Kristopher,_ " his mama says, so full of love and understanding that Kris wishes she was there more than ever and finds tears welling up in his eyes for the first time. "I'm so sorry. And you'd just got back, as well."

He'd just got back. If Katy seems like a long time ago, Haiti could have been a whole other lifetime. "She met him while I was gone," Kris says, hunting the desk for a box of tissues or something. "The house in LA was his, she's living with him, she wants to bond -" his voice cracked on the last word.

"Oh, oh _Kris._ I'm so sorry. Are you, are you coping? Do you need us to pay for your flight home, or have you got enough left over?"

"I -" Kris touches his pocket where his nearly-empty wallet lies. Adam could afford a flight to Arkansas, if Kris asked him, but he's already said he'll stay around. "I'm going to stay here for a bit. I... I found a job. A music job, playing in a bar. It's not much but I don't - I can't face college just yet. I need some time."

"You have money? Do you need us to send you anything? Can you give us your address?"

Kris rummaged through the drawers until he found a note with Adam's address scrawled across the top. Even if Kris wasn't standing in a four bedroom palace with a kitchen twice the size of Declan's entire apartment, he would be able to tell from the address that it wasn't somewhere a bar-musician could ever afford. "I still need to finalize a few details, but I'll call you as soon as it's settled."

"The moment you want to come home, Kris, you call and let us know. We can pay for your flights and whatever else you need, we just want you back here with us." She sounds so close that Kris is closer to tears than ever. "Your father wants to talk to you, I'll just put you on speaker and -"

Then his papa's voice is there and Kris loses the fight with his tear ducts, finding a box of tissues just in time to pull one out and blow his nose on it.

"You were always too good for her anyway," his dad says, sounding a little like he's crying as well. "I bet in a _week_ she realizes what she's given up and comes chasing after you. You were always inseparable, maybe she just needs more time."

Kris swallows and doesn't ask if three months in Haiti wasn't enough _time_ for Katy to realize she needed him. He's spent his entire relationship giving her space and now, apparently, that wasn't what she wanted and he doesn't know how to fix things. "I -" he says, remembering suddenly that he's _bonded_ and there is no way to fix things. He's never met a bonded person who dated outside of their bond, never so much as heard of the possibility. Maybe there'll be no one in his life again.

No one but Adam, at any rate.

"Can we not talk about Katy?" he asks, his voice low and weak. "I just need time to work things out and I can't -"

"Of course," his mama gushes. "So tell us about Haiti, love. Was it hot? How was the work?"

Kris hangs up half an hour later and goes through to the kitchen to find Adam and a small mountain of Chinese food.

"I didn't know what you liked," Adam says, without look at him. "I got some of everything, you can choose whatever you want."

"Right," Kris says softly, reaching out to pull a few pots closer.

"The girlfriend," Adam says, glancing up from his bean sprouts. "You really loved her?"

Kris looks down at the Chinese food, realising too late that he hasn't hidden the red rings around his eyes as well as he naively thought he had. "She was supposed to be the one. The girl next door, the first love, I was going to be with her forever."

Adam swallows a little. "First love," he says. "That's always the worst."

After that, they eat in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Adam sleeps badly. The itch that had started off as a minor irritant builds up, starting in his chest and spreading right to the tips of his fingers and toes. Its worst across his tattoo and the new scar on his side which he scratches so much he breaks the skin. When he pulls his top up to get a better look, he can watch the tiny scratches fade to nothing.

He flicks the light on and climbs out of bed, twisting to the side to examine the scar in the mirror. Whatever the wound was, it's perfectly straight except for the slight flecks that Adam thinks mean it was stitched up. He should ask Kris where he got it, but that will involve more contact with Kris than he is hoping to have.

 _Cold turkey,_ he reminds himself, firmly not thinking about the research he did on his Blackberry after dinner that showed no evidence of ignoring the bond going any way towards reducing its potency.

He pulls on a pair of sweatpants, intending to wonder down to the kitchen for a glass of water and maybe a sleeping pill but is distracted halfway down the corridor by a low cry from Kris's room.

He had promised his guest privacy, of course, but Kris had left the door slightly open and he sounds like he's fighting something in there so Adam reaches out to push the door inwards a little further.

The only light in the room comes from the moon streaming through the curtains. It's enough that Adam can see the sheets tangled up, Kris a tiny figure in the California king bed, arms up in front of his face. As Adam watches, Kris kicks out and whimpers, clutching his body tighter as though he can somehow protect himself from whatever he's dreaming.

Then his head jerks up and he throws both arms forward with a cry that also wakes him. He's wide awake in an instant, sitting upright and searching the room as though he expects to see the van that hit him lurking in one of the corners. He stretches his arms out before him as though surprised they're not covered in blood, and catches sight of Adam's reflection in the window.

Kris spins around instantly, folding his arms tight across his chest which Adam had been carefully not checking out.

"I couldn't sleep," Adam says, without really thinking it through. "I was just seeing if we, if that was something we shared."

"I was sleeping fine," Kris lies. "Until you came in and woke me up."

"Right." Adam lets it slide, reaching up to flatten his hair. "Do you want a glass of water or something?"

Kris straightens the sheets on his bed. "I'm fine. I just want to go back to sleep."

"Okay." Adam hesitates for a moment. "Sorry for - for waking you. Goodnight." He walks through to the kitchen and pours out a glass slowly from the water dispenser in the fridge, controlling the buttons to drop ice in one cube at a time. The device seems pointless to him - he could just as easily keep a bottle in the fridge same as he has his entire life up until this point - but it was another of those things that he got no say in, he just arrived at the house at the end of the summer tour and it was there.

He walks back, pausing briefly outside Kris's door to listen, but there is no sound from inside. Either Kris is still awake, or his dreams are peaceful. Either way, it's none of Adam's business and he tries not to think about the fact that his nightmares shouldn't be Adam's business either.

It's just - he's small. The same size as Brad (And that shouldn't still make a difference, but it does) which is probably what's got Adam's protective instincts all fired up to eleven. Sure, Adam has seen Kris's six pack (Same as he'd seen Brad's temper) but Kris is so humble, shrinking down at the first sign of conflict. He watched Adam carefully all night, mimicking him as best he could. He was stumped by the water cooler in the fridge and the state of the art coffee machine.

Of course he was. Adam had never seen anything that complicated before the Idol Mansion. Kris had been thrust into the world of $1,000 coffee and designer fridges with more speed and less warning than Adam had and if he tried to leave he had no way of knowing that Adam wouldn't pop down to the nearest hospital and have him killed.

And if having that power scares Adam, it must absolutely terrify Kris.

Adam crawls back into bed, placing his glass carefully on the bedside table. He still isn't tired and after a moment he reaches for the book on his bedside table and cracks it open. Maybe he'll regret it tomorrow, but being alone in the dark with his thoughts is not something he wants right now.

*

Adam remembers to call home halfway through his mid-afternoon choreography session. He is still tripping over his pimp cane when they walk across the stage and is seriously one more tumble away from snapping the damn thing over his knee and going without. He didn't sleep again all night, getting up ridiculously early and sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee until such a time as he could arrive at the studio.

There were more arguments about the single to sit through. The studio wanted to release Soaked - "The power of the vocal, Adam" - and Adam wanted to release Fever - "Everyone knows I'm gay, what's the big deal about one fucking pronoun?" - so there was shouting and threats and nothing got decided on _again._ The lunch time meeting about set listing - for some reason there was now an unspecified problem about Broken Open - was interrupted by a text with the link to TMZ where half the site seemed dedicated to Drake's parroting of Lane's story.

"No hard feelings," Adam said, over and over, as harried bodyguards got him between the doors of the studio and his car. "We were planning to split before the tour anyway. We're still good friends."

Then there was the fucking dance and the _fucking_ cane and Adam had managed to completely forget about Kris until someone mentioned their partner and he remembered - shit - that he'd left Kris alone in the house without so much as a note and he'd had to find an excuse to disappear into a side corridor and stare at his phone for a long time.

Eventually he sucks it up and calls Lane. "Hey, did you get Kris's number?"

There is a long silence on the line which proves that - no - she hadn't thought of that either.

Adam bites his lip and wonders how long it would take him to get home through LA at this time in the afternoon. Probably long enough for Kris to die of hunger or whatever. "Wait, do you know the number for the phone in my house?"

There is a soft pattering of buttons across the line and then Lane reads out a number for Adam to scrawl on the inside of his arm. "Look after that boy," Lane warns before hanging up. For a moment Adam wonders if she's somehow lost her heartless business woman's edge but then she adds. "We cannot afford a lawsuit right now," and Adam breathes a sigh of relief at the universe setting itself right.

He hangs up on her and dials his home phone which rings almost to the point of going to answer phone before it's picked up and Kris's breathing comes down the line.

"Um," he says. "Lambert residence?"

"Hey," Adam says, and then stops because he really has no idea how to talk to Kris. "Uh, are you okay?"

For a moment he thinks he can hear Kris shrug, then he realizes that might be more an effect of the emotional connection or whatever. "Yeah, I guess."

"Did you -" Adam starts awkwardly, cursing the world for not having any official way of dealing with this sort of... of _acquaintance._ "Have you eaten?" He is not used to people living in his house unless he's sleeping with them, thinking about sleeping them or has previously slept with them.

"I warmed up some Chinese," Kris says, and Adam hears a television come into ear shot then get muted. "There's nothing in the house for dinner. I don't know - I could get something if you wanted to eat out."

"Don't leave the house," Adam says, reverting to his default reaction on anything which is 'follow Lane's instructions to the letter.' "I'll pick something up, or I'll get someone to - I'll deal with it, okay?"

"Okay." There is the slight creak of leather. "Are you... Is it itching like this for you?"

Adam has been firmly ignoring it, though now he thinks it's possible that the dull itch and the slight pain in his head are both contributing heavily towards his mood. "I'm fine," he lies. "Maybe it's just a side effect of the healing process. You should take a shower or something."

"I'll try that," Kris says, and Adam knows that Kris suspects he's lying but Kris is perfectly polite and they don't say anything at all significant for the rest of the conversation - Kris says he's watching Velvet Goldmine which isn't that surprising because Adam hasn't unpacked any of his other DVDS; Adam lets himself complain about the cane because Kris can't tell anyone who might then make him get rid of it - and eventually Adam hangs up, programs the number into his phone and goes back to rehearsal.

The itch is worse than ever after being acknowledged. Adam trips over his pimp cane three more times before calling a halt to dance rehearsal and calling out to ask if his band is in attendance yet because he wants to practice the kiss.

Naturally three different industry professionals instantly leap out of the woodwork to tell him all the reasons they're thinking of cutting the kiss and Adam ignores them all because a) kissing Tommy was what put him on the front page of every news site in America, b) it possibly gained him more fangirls than the entire Idol Experience and c) his fucking _doctor_ told him to have more sexy times, so he is damn well going to kiss any hot boy he likes thank you very much.

Tommy raises his eyebrows when Adam walks into the room with him. "Of all people," he says, softly, pressing closer to Adam so the suits can't hear him. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be the one who needed to practice kissing."

Adam scowls. "Can you make out and play bass at the same time?"

Tommy pauses, taking in the look on his face, then shrugs. "I can pretend to not be able to."

Adam kisses cute boys all afternoon. His headache only gets worse.

*

Adam forgets to go shopping but Kris doesn't press the point, just passes Adam a list and a phone number for a shop that apparently delivers at any time and goes back to watching whatever incomprehensible sport he has blasting full volume on the TV. When Adam says he's going out, Kris just shrugs and doesn't look around while Adam calls Brad, Cass and Drake (Who says that Lane had threatened to have him shot if he broke any of her rules about contact so he would have to say no just this once, but on the plus side he's found a hot blonde model to be photographed with for TMZ).

Even Drake's fake-romance is better than Adam's fucking _bond_. How pathetic is that? Kris cooks something involving pasta and a tomato sauce and pours it onto plates for them to eat in the kitchen like civilized people. Adam is about to pick his up and take it into the study or anywhere else that Kris isn't - the house is huge, it should be easy to avoid one tiny, hot southerner - but Kris opens his mouth to say something before Adam can leave.

"I need my things. I mean, all I have is the clothes on my back so I need clean clothes and I had some personal stuff, my phone and stuff. It's all at Kat - I mean her boyfriend's place."

Adam opens his mouth to offer to replace Kris's wardrobe, then closes it because the expression on Kris's face isn't that of someone pining the loss of a few pairs of jeans. "Call her, say you don't want to see her but a friend of yours will be coming round to pick up your things. I'll send someone, just write the address down." He passes over his Blackberry for Kris to type his address into. "There's some more movies in the box room, if you want to go searching." He pauses, then remembers. "They're in a box marked 'adult content.' Keep out of the box marked 'living room.' Bra - my friend wanted to give the movers a surprise."

"He sounds like quite a character." Kris picks up his plate. "I should go catch the end of the game."

"Right," Adam says, picking at his pasta until it goes cold and then tossing it away and dropping the plate on the side before heading to get changed and only pausing briefly to watch Kris. He doesn't look happy - maybe his team is losing - but still, objectively, he's gorgeous. Adam hasn't really taken the chance to examine him properly before but now he's looking he can't help noticing the smooth skin, shaped jaw, casually messy hair and mid tone tan that seems to come more from working outside than any kind of sun bed.

Adam remembers the calluses on his fingers and finds himself wondering what Kris worked as before coming to LA.

He showers, trying to think about Drake as he jerks off but not quite fully blocking out Kris's jaw, his lips, how they would look curved around -

Thankfully Adam comes all over his fingers before he can fully acknowledge that thought and - against all odds- it actually does make him feel better. His headache fades and the itch lessens to the point where a distraction would render it unnoticeable. He does his make up while making a mental note to have sex as soon as possible.

He finds a plain black shirt and gold rings for his fingers as he texts Lane to let her know that he's planning on going out with some old friends - not Drake - and does she have any bodyguards who can be discrete.

He misses being about to go out without guards, but after a few disasters between the mansion and the tour he finally accepted that his many, many retainers might just have a point about not letting the American Idol out on his own.

He finds a pair of skin tight leather pants and a gorgeous skin.graft jacket that probably deserves better than a night on the town but it's been a bad day, damn it, so he totally deserves to look fucking amazing.

He checks his make up one last time in the mirror as the doorbell rings. Artfully smudged eyeliner, dark lips, blue smoke right up to the underside of his eyebrows, perfect. He has to answer the door himself - of course - because Kris is still watching the television with his empty plate sitting in his lap.

"I'm supposed to be hidden," Kris says, with a shrug. "Or did you want me to open the door to every TMZ reporter who comes knock -" he breaks off when he actually looks around and sees Adam standing in the hallway. The " _Wow_ " is probably involuntary, but Adam appreciates it nonetheless.

"Don't wait up, darling."

Kris swallows. Adam laughs and tugs the door open to reveal Brad, Cass, Tommy and a bodyguard who has at least managed to dress down for the occasion, even if he still looks like he's been rejected by professional wrestling for looking too intimidating.

"Well," Adam says, carefully positioning himself in the doorway to hide Kris from view. "Let's get pissed and make out with strangers."

He feels, rather than sees, Kris blanch and quickly leave the room.

Not that it matters anyway.

*

He doesn't know what time it is when he gets in but the sun is definitely starting to rise on the horizon as Adam fights his way out of his boots and drops his jacket over the sofa.

The bodyguard - Adam is too far out of it to remember names - has forced two bottles of water down the throats of everyone who went home in Adam's limo. Alisan had appeared from somewhere, he remembered, but Cass had gone home with someone else.

Lane appeared to have briefed the bodyguard as well because the moment Adam tried to drag any guy to the back room, he was suddenly right _there_ looming and looking threatening until Adam's potential conquest had fucked right off. Adam's lips were red from making out but his dick was completely unsatisfied and all he could think about was Kris's big eyes and soft skin and this bond had way more side effects than anyone warned him about.

He stops outside Kris's room. The door isn't fully shut again and he reaches out to tap it open a little more.

Kris is tangled up again, arms up in front of his face and whimpering softly. He's shirtless - in the moonlight Adam can see the sweat dripping off every one of Kris's perfect abs and he can feel his mouth drying out and his dick straining against the pants.

 _Fuck._ Isn't it bad enough that he's magically bonded to the guy, now he has to be crushing like mad as well even though Kris is clearly straight.

Adam watches Kris toss for a moment then walks down the corridor to his room and goes inside, slamming the door as loudly as he can.

After a moment, he sneaks back down the corridor. There are no more noises coming from Kris's room.

He goes back to his room and jerks off in the bathroom thinking about running his fingers across Kris's chest and through his damp hair.

In the morning, he calls Drake.

*

Glamnation - as everyone is very keen to remind him - starts in a week. They are still short a ton of equipment, a lighting specialist and about three million costumes. Allison's set is still only twenty minutes and Adam had to threaten to pull out just to stop them cutting it further. They won't let him pull her out to duet Slow Ride because apparently it could impact his album sales and no one cares when he tries to point out that he would gladly transfer half of his record sales to her because there are bags under her eyes and she isn't selling enough and everyone knows she's about to be dropped from the label but no one's saying anything and no one's _fighting_ for her.

Adam has forgotten what it is like to not be stressed, to have a moment without a million different thoughts vying for attention in his head. He snaps at Lane, which results in her sulking and him missing three interviews. He snaps at his label and gets saddled with _If I Had You_ as a single. In the end, he just snaps at Kris a whole lot because the worst Kris can do is ignore him and that's supposed to be what they're aiming for anyway. Except Kris gets that look that makes Adam feel like he's kicked a puppy.

The doctor was right, sex with Drake helps. At least, it helps him briefly forget about Kris which is all he can really ask for since the itching is getting worse, the headache is a constant and he's getting - at best - three hours of sleep a night.

He prefers that to what Kris is getting. Kris makes no mention of the nightmares - even going so far as to act ignorant when Adam asks - but the shadows under his eyes are getting darker and, in spite of all the food he's eating, he seems to be losing weight.

Adam sends Cassidy to pick up Kris's things in the vague hope that somehow that will fix anything and when he gets home from rehearsal he finds the two of them sitting on Adam's sofa with a guitar balanced between them.

He hesitates in the doorway because they're clearly both caught up in whatever Cass is doing.

"It's money," Kris is saying. "I mean, it's alright for someone like Adam since no one can deny that voice so he gets Idol and that works for him, but no one really gets _found_ anymore and without that contract you're just leeching off your parents or getting a job and then you have no time for music."

"Preaching to the choir," Cassidy agrees, fingering the sleeve of Adam's abandoned skin.graft jacket. "I started two fucking clothing companies and best thing to happen to my music career was still Adam's success.

Adam shuts the door rather more sharply than is necessary and both guys jump slightly, Cass turning to look at him and Kris reaching out to take the guitar from Cass's hands. "Cass, I thought you were picking up his stuff this morning." So his voice is a little cold, he's being doing dull-as-fuck press all day talking about being gay and kissing Tommy at the AMAs and failing to answer a single question about the fucking tour or even the album. No one was even up to date enough to ask about Drake, which might have been a good thing because Adam is desperate to have Drake right here right now and is cursing all of Lane's _stupid_ rules about time together.

The only thing keeping him going was the thought of coming home to his big house and Kris who can't run away or kick Adam's ass if he bitches loudly all night only now Cassidy is here so Adam has to be remotely civil if he doesn't want to alienate all the friends he has left. Of course, that's assuming Kris hasn't already done the job for him.

"How's Glamnation going?" Cassidy asks.

Kris snorts a little and mutters " _Glamnation_ ," under his breath. One of these days Adam is going to sit him down and give him a fucking lecture on the awesomeness of glam rock and how it isn't _funny_ and it took him ages to come up with that fucking name and he's so sorry that it isn't _Arkansas_ enough for Kristopher fucking Allen.

"Fine," Adam snaps, dropping onto the chair. Kris's eyes dart up from the guitar, his expression saying _'I know that you are lying and I find it somewhat amusing_.' "It's going great. I got my coat today, it's gorgeous." And it itches like mad and is too tight to move in and he trips over it whenever he tries to walk anywhere. "I'm thinking of doing the acoustic session sitting down. It's more intimate that way. So, what did you do today?" the question is open, but he aims it at Kris who is still holding the guitar loosely as though he's worried Cass will break it.

Kris shrugs. "Cass came over with my things and we got talking about music. He plays guitar too, so we started messing around." His tone and bearing are both casual but Adam can feel him glaring inside. 'Is _that acceptable?_ ' he seems to be asking. 'Does _that meet with your_ approval _?'_

Adam carefully doesn't think about the fact that his mental connection with Kris is - if anything - getting stronger. "You didn't tell me you were a musician."

Kris shrugs, moving his hands carefully on the guitar and now he's looking for it Adam can see that there is a familiarity in the way he holds it, sliding his fingers across the strings. "You never asked. We haven't exactly had a heart to heart."

Right. Adam remembers standing in the hospital and a nurse saying that he could probably look into Kris's mind if he tried - they wanted to call his family and let them know what had happened. Adam had pushed enough to get a name and then it had _hurt_ so fucking much and he had, and there was a van, and he had wanted to run but the staff were all so insistent and then Kris had woken up and that was, apparently, the end of that.

"Well, thanks for staying," he says to Cass. "I imagine he's been getting pretty bored back here on his own."

Kris looks up from the guitar. _'You never asked about that either,'_ he throws out.

'Stay _the fuck out of my head,'_ Adam tosses back, without thinking.

Kris scowls slightly but looks away again. "I'm learning how the other half lives. It's enlightening. You know Adam can download his porn directly from his laptop onto that box beside his TV and then forget to delete it but remember to give it perfectly innocent names." He says this without a trace of shame.

Adam remembers getting hard the day before. He'd thought it was a reaction to seeing his dancers changing into costume, but Kris's expression seems to imply that itches, headaches and the occasional thought aren't the only things that bounce between them.

Fuck.

Cassidy laughs, resting a hand casually on Kris's arm. Adam tenses up very slightly but tries to ignore it. "Well," Cass says. "I have my friend's popularity to take shameless advantage of. I wish you much luck with your guitar and your frankly embarrassing collection of plaid shirts."

"Come over any time," Kris says, before Adam can object, and he strums a few chords on his guitar while Cass finds his coat and leaves.

"He's gay," Adam throws out, pretty much the moment the door closes. "He's dating Brad - my ex - the one from all the photos they leaked."

Kris shrugs and strums another chord. "You really think that matters to me?"

Adam stops himself before he can say 'Yes, obviously, you're from fucking Arkansas,' and shrugs his shoulders instead. "Well, there's clearly a reason why you don't like me."

Kris looks up in disbelief then sighs and turns back to his guitar. "I thought I was supposed to be ignoring you until this bond magically disappeared."

Adam thinks for a long moment before answering because this is _not_ a conversation he ever expected to have. "I didn't mean - we just have to keep our distance. We don't have to not talk or whatever -" He pauses. "There's a recording studio in the basement. If I'd known you were into music - you can use it, if you want. I have two more weeks at home. It would be easier if we weren't at each other's throats the whole time."

Kris looks at him for a moment, then shrugs and places the guitar carefully on the floor, leaning against the sofa. "Okay."

*

They eat dinner together in the kitchen. Kris cooks fajitas based on a recipe he finds on the internet. Adam cuts vegetables but isn't allowed near any of the actual appliances after he manages to burn his hip on the wok. While they eat, Adam tells amusing stories about backstage in musicals and all the crazy things he's done to try and scrounge up the money for the rent - including the time where he climbed out of a window to avoid his landlord and ended up taking the last minute starring role in a porn movie just because it was cash-in-hand.

He deliberately throws in the more sordid stories, trying to find Kris's boundaries, but as far as he can tell the innocent Christian boy from Arkansas is completely shameless.

In response, Kris tells him about the business degree and trying out for Idol with his brother and his best friend, being told at audition that his voice was good but he didn't have enough confidence for that kind of competition so he went back to his business degree but wasn't feeling it so when the place opened up for a mission trip to Haiti, he took it.

Adam curves his feet around the legs of his chair so they don't seek Kris's under the table and when he gets up to stack the plates beside the sink, he can't help noticing Kris's are the same.

Kris makes him wash the dishes - which is apparently something you have to do when you eat food that doesn't come in a carton - and manages to stay seated for all of five minutes before snatching the plate from Adam's hand, carefully not touching Adam's skin, and doing it himself.

They watch a movie after dinner, arguing for at least fifteen minutes before Kris just takes advantage of their commitment to no contact to snatch one of the movies and put it into the player.

It's _Alien vs. Predator_ , one of those pretending-to-be-action-but-really-fucking-scary movies that Drake insisted on Adam buying so he didn't have to watch any of 'that rom-com shit' when he came over. Kris gets engrossed, bouncing a little at the action bits and Adam of course gets fucking scared and shifts closer to Kris without even thinking about it every time the predators come onto the screen or someone almost gets killed and he screams out loud the first time the alien bursts from someone's stomach and his arms flail up and somehow land on Kris's leg.

Then Kris is turning and so is Adam and Adam's mind is paralysed in fear so he totally has no responsibility for the fact that he just leans in and catches Kris's lips on his.

God - he moans into Kris's mouth, tightening his fingers to pull him closer, sliding one hand up under the shirt to trace Kris's abs and curling the fingers of his other hand around Kris's neck and jaw to tilt his head slightly more and get just the right angle.

Kris's mouth opens desperately under his and Adam slides his tongue in, tasting the hot spice of the fajitas second hand. Kris's fingers push into his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt.

It isn't just that the headache disappears or that no part of Adam itches for the first time in three days. It's like everything that has ever hurt or stressed him fades as well, the hurts that the bond didn't cause easing further and further as Kris's tongue presses against his and Adam's fingers brush more bare skin.

He has to pull back to take a breath, but apparently Kris has no such concerns because he immediately leans in to kiss Adam's jaw and nuzzle against his neck and he smells so _fucking_ good that Adam had to tug him up and kiss him again.

Kris relaxes into it this time and Adam can roll on top of him, carefully placing one knee on either side. One of Kris's hands drops from Adam's hair to tug at the buttons of his shirt, his fingers tickling through Adam's chest hair and the curve of his neck and there is a faint clink.

Kris jerks his head back and Adam looks down to see his hand has somehow gone to Kris's belt buckle. Everything goes still and the moment of clarity is all it takes for Adam to push back and cross the room, turning away so he doesn't have to see Kris's mouth or his skin or the fact that he must be as hard as Adam is under a thin layer of fabric.

"I didn't - " Adam starts.

"I know ," Kris says.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Goodnight," Adam manages, before he has to flee to his bedroom and his private ensuite bathroom where he can run the shower and curve his hand around his cock, not even trying to think of anything other than Kris's lips under his, Kris's skin, Kris's hands tugging against his hair.

Then he leans his head against the wall of the shower and lets the spray wash the streaks of eyeliner off his face.

*

The next morning Adam waits in the kitchen long past the hour when he would normally leave for the studio drinking coffee after coffee while his pop tart goes cold on his plate.

Kris wonders in around eleven, not noticing Adam at all until he's stumbled across to the coffee machine and made himself something horribly complicated that seemed to involve pressing every button on the interface at least twice. Adam probably shouldn't be surprised that Kris is just as good with Adam's coffee machine as he is with Adam's friends.

Kris's hair is dishevelled and he's just thrown on one of Adam's old hoodies over a pair of sleep pants that fit him too well to be anything other than his own. He drains the coffee mug and pushes it back under the nozzle of the machine to crank out another.

Kris looks more tired than ever, rubbing his wrist every five seconds as though there's some sort of rash there.

He picks up his second coffee, turns around and jumps at the sight of Adam, pouring boiling water all over his hand. "Shit, I mean shoot, no I mean fuck. Fuck it." Kris throws the mug back onto the side and tugs the tap over his hand to wash the liquid off his skin. There's a faint tingle in Adam's fingers and the coffee washes off Kris's hand to reveal unmarked skin.

The tap pulls out on a hose, like a shower. Adam never knew that.

"I thought you'd be at the studio," Kris says, keeping his back to Adam as he picks up the mug and washes that off too. "I thought - I mean you can do whatever you want, obviously but -"

"I'll move out," Adam says, before Kris can find his point.

Kris droops visibly, the tap dropping against the sink. "No," he says, sounding suddenly tired. "No, of course not, it's your house. I'll go into a hotel or... or something."

"No," Adam says, thinking about Kris waking up screaming and maybe someone will _tell_ him. (Of course, maybe Kris is lying about not remembering the nightmares but on the off chance that he doesn't Adam can't let him find out. He can't.)

"It's your house. I'm just the mistake, the stray bird that you fixed up but who can't fly away." He picks up the tap again, spraying it back over his hand. "I don't belong here."

"You're not going anywhere," Adam says, before he can think about how that might sound. "I mean, we'll go back to the original plan. I'm not spending enough time in the studio anyway so I'll - I'll get up earlier and be gone before you wake up and I'll come back after you go to bed. You can order in food or use the studio or - I don't know - go shopping or something."

"You don't have to -"

"I'm going to." Adam pushes his pop tart away. "I'll call Cassidy, you can go shopping with him. You seemed to be getting on. That's something to do today and we'll take it one day at a time, okay?"

Kris places the tap carefully back in its holder and rubs the back of his neck with the dry hand. "I don't really have any money. I mean, not that I'm asking you for... you don't have to -"

Adam brushes this off with one hand because he has more money than he could ever have dreamed of in his pre-Idol days. "Just tell me what you want and I'll - no , wait - " he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, riffling through it for one of his many credit cards. It was amazing, suddenly realizing he had enough money to apply for as many as he wanted. "Have this. Spend whatever you want."

Kris takes it slowly, looking at it as though it might bite him. "Living in your house, spending your money, I guess I'm just your -"

"Doctor," Adam interrupts, before Kris can say anything he doesn't want to hear. "Private doctor. I mean, I can't die if you don't. Think of it all the money I'm saving on health insurance."

"Right," Kris says, quietly, still looking at the card and Adam realizes than Kris hasn't once looked into his eyes.

"It won't happen again," Adam says softly. "We'll work this out. I promise."

Kris slides the card into his back pocket. "Okay."

*

Adam calls Drake more. They don't go back to Adam's house - Lane was right, there are always a few paparazzi hovering around looking for a story - but they go to Drake's or to clubs or to bathrooms at the studio and every time Adam manages to push the itch down to something barely even noticeable.

He doesn't think about Kris when he's with Drake - he knows that shouldn't be an achievement but, damn it, he _doesn't._ Sometimes he even manages to forget about Kris when he's just sitting with Drake or cuddling up with him.

But when he's on his own, it's never Drake he thinks of. He plays out his fantasies in every way imaginable. Kris's lips, Kris's eyes, Kris's cock straining against his jeans.

Sometimes he imagines walking into Kris's room at night and waking him from the nightmares with a kiss. He thinks about sex in Kris's bed, Kris laid out before him and imagines afterwards Kris never having nightmares again.

But he doesn't try it, and nothing else works. He thought skin contact might - even enough to risk it - but Kris just rolled away from his hand as though in sleep it was no help for anything and kept tossing, turning, crying out.

Cassidy went shopping with Kris and next day he spoke to Adam at length about the handful of record stores they went into before Kris got tired of shopping and so they went bowling instead - "the shoes, Adam, oh god the _shoes,_ " he complained - but apparently he'd had a good time in spite of that because he arranged to hang out with Kris four more times before Adam went anywhere.

Adam makes the mistake of talking to Brad a few days in. They go to a bar and Adam drinks too much and ends up draped over Brad. "So say someone was dying," he says. "And there was someone else there who didn't know how to stand back and watch him die so they bonded only this someone else didn't think it through and there were all these consequences and neither person wanted to be _bonded_ but they didn't want to die _either_ and they couldn't tell anyone because then they'd lose their record deal so they were going to be all restrained but then the guy they bonded with was hot and adorable and a fucking amazing kisser and it hurts when he isn't touching me and he has all these nightmares and I don't know how to make everything okay."

Brad strokes his hair and promises to look for a way to break it without anyone dying, but the next day when Adam texts him to say 'sorry _4 dumping on_ u' he gets a reply that says 'Kris _is kwl, cnt believe u kpt him secret!!!! Hav u herd his music?_ '

Adam drops his head into his arms and wonders where he would have to go to buy new friends.

*

He goes home early one night - so what if the tour starts in two days, so what if the pimp cane is going to get snapped the first night of tour and half the outfits haven't arrived and "We haven't got time for your diva shit, Adam, for fuck's sake." On the surface, the day has gone well. Adam managed the walk without tripping over, he saw his bus for the first time - fucking _awesome_ \- and the label agreed that the kiss could be an official part of the choreography and thus they would have to back him up if there was any negative press - hah.

The tour is coming together, he hadn't seen Kris in nearly a week, he's managing the itch with an excess of Drake-sex and masturbation; and the headache with a ton of Ibuprofen and Tylenol but something still feels off. Something that is nestled down into the 'Kris' portion of his brain and he can't help thinking as he sits in the back of the car that Brad and Cassidy were both elsewhere today meaning Kris has been alone and what if he's done something stupid.

'Something stupid' turns out to be sitting at Adam's kitchen table with Kris's arm around her shoulders. She's small with blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her shoulders are shaking where she has her face pressed against Kris's shoulder.

Adam makes a point about not getting jealous - Lane has told him many times that he can't _afford_ to get jealous - he knew that when they were dating but before they were exclusive, Drake slept around. He knows that now Drake is sleeping with his arm candy model (And he doesn't really blame Drake because he's seen the pictures and - fuck - that kid is hot) and he isn't jealous. He knows that he can't be everything Drake needs, he knows that people have desires that they don't have to fight; he knows that if he could offer Drake a real relationship, Drake might say no and that would be okay.

He's only felt like this once before and he remembers it perfectly. Being dragged out to a club with Cassidy in an attempt to pull him out of the hole he'd moved into since Brad left - taking all the color, light and life in Adam's apartment with him. He was sitting at a table waiting for Cass to return with large amounts of alcohol when two people walked past, knocking into his table.

He hadn't even recognized Brad until he turned around, a tall guy with bleach-blonde hair on his arm. Brads eyes had widened - clearly he hadn't expected Adam to be here either - and there had been a moment of awkwardness. "Adam," Brad had said, still all brightness as though there was nothing wrong. "This is - this is Nathaniel. He's a gymnast."

Adam had punched him. He hadn't meant to, it was just he was right _there_ clinging onto Adam's - onto _Brad_ as though he had any claim to him and it had burned.

Looking at the blonde girl at his kitchen table, Adam feels the same burning, the same need to do something, _anything_ to get her away from what's his but this time it's worse because there's no reasoning to the feelings. He doesn't even know who she is.

He slams the door, and both of them jump. Kris jerks away from the woman as though he's a teenager being caught by his fucking parents. She looks up at Adam and makes a tiny noise synonymous with 'ulp' and grabs a purse off the floor. "Kris, I should go. Thank you for - for listening. I need to find a hotel."

"Don't be stupid," Kris says, looking away from Adam as though he's nothing special. "I said you can stay here. Just until you get things sorted out - are all your things still at his place?"

She bursts into tears again and Kris leans down to wrap his arms tight around her shoulders. "Adam," he says, over her shoulder. "This is Katy."

All of Adam's jealous boyfriend instincts surge up on fucking overdrive. Katy O- fucking-Connell. Katy who dumped Kris for some waster and broke his heart and Adam clenches his fists tight - fingernails digging into his palms to stop him from storming forward and tearing them apart. "Can I talk to you, somewhere else?"

Kris squeezes Katy tighter for a minute. "It's going to be okay," he murmurs as Adam is forced to look away. "I promise. Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." He carefully extracts himself from her arms, pausing to drop a kiss on her forehead before heading out past Adam. "The studio?" he asks.

Adam pushes his hands into his pockets so he doesn't end up grabbing at Kris's wrist and pulling him closer. "Fine," he says, following Kris downstairs.

*

The computer is running, layers of some kind of music track on the screen, and Kris's guitar is lying on the chair in the studio as though he just left it midway through recording something.

"There's enough space," is the first thing Kris says, kneeling to pick up his guitar and put it back in its case. "She hasn't got anywhere else to go. It's just for a few -"

"No," Adam says, barely even listening because the one thing he is _sure_ of is that she is not staying in his house any longer than is absolutely necessary.

Kris goes still for a moment, then puts the guitar back down on top of a sheet of paper with _'Is It_ Over' scrawled across the top. "She won't take up much space, she'll pay for her own food. She can sleep in my room if that's what -"

"No," Adam snaps, pacing in an effort to work off the urge to hit something. "What's she even doing here? I thought you two were over."

Kris slowly reaches across, pulling the lid down over his guitar. "Is that what this -" he starts, then cuts himself off, biting down on his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth until Adam is forced to look away. "Declan wanted a back alley bond so they could get it done quickly. Katy insisted on doing it right. She booked an appointment at a clinic, called him up and told him to meet her there. As soon as he got through the doors they knew. They have facial recognition for anyone on file and he was - he was on file." He drummed his fingers against the box. "She wasn't the first. Hell, she wasn't even the second. He's an addict, does whatever drugs he can get his hands on and it fucked up his liver. He's in a lot of pain, doing a ton more drugs to suppress it and prepared to bond with anyone or anything to fix it. She said she wouldn't and he got - he got violent." He stands up slowly, still with his back to Adam. "All her things are still in his apartment - her clothes, her phone, her bank cards. She called my cell from a payphone and I gave her your address." He pauses for a moment then turns to look at Adam. "I'm not sending her back there. Don't you dare ask me to."

Adam stops pacing, remembering - involuntarily - the night when Brad had come knocking desperately on his door. He'd thrown himself into sex after the break up, it was probably inevitable that he'd bite off more than he could chew with someone and Adam had let him in. Sometimes things were more important than jealously.

Adam lets his hands fall loose and goes to touch Kris's shoulder reassuringly before he remembers that Kris isn't Brad and he can't do that. "I won't. We can - I'll send someone to the apartment. One of the bodyguards. I'll pay for her hotel or whatever."

Kris turns slowly. "I can't leave her on her own, Adam. You have two spare rooms, or my bed is about ten times larger than I need. I don't - what's the problem here?"

Adam takes a deep breath and counts to ten so he doesn't start shouting. "I can't -" he says, then thinks carefully about what he wants to say. "When she's around - it doesn't feel. I don't want her around you, I can't - I can't concentrate and I want - I don't want you near her."

"Ah," Kris says, sitting down on the chair. "You're jealous." He doesn't sound surprised.

Adam starts pacing again. "It's just the bond but I can't - I need to be able to concentrate right now and I can't if I'm feeling like - feeling like this."

Kris leans forward, a challenging glint in his eye. "And all of this is because she's my ex-girlfriend and you've seen me hugging her."

"Nothing about this bond is exactly rational, wouldn't you say?"

"So how do you think it feels _for me_ when you're kissing Tommy?" Kris asks, before Adam can argue further. "Or - better example - when you're off _fucking_ Drake every hour of the day and night?"

Adam opens his mouth, then closes it.

"Do you think I sit here watching movies or playing guitar?" Kris lets out a low bark of a laugh. "You don't even want to know some of the things I've wanted to do to Drake. I've never even met the guy and I know all the ways I want to beat him into the _ground_ for daring to touch you." He kicks back his chair and stands up. "So I have been sitting quiet and praying you never bring your boyfriend within eye-gouging distance. The one thing I am asking for is that you let my best friend - who was once my girlfriend but notably _isn't any more¬_ \- stay until she is in a suitable mental state to fly home. In return I will keep sitting quiet. I will buy a punching bag for when you go on tour and I will stay out of the way whenever Drake comes by. Is that acceptable?"

Adam opens his mouth again, but his throat is too dry to talk and he can't find anything to say. He manages to nod weakly.

Kris nods in acknowledgement. "I'm going to go make up a bed in one of the guest rooms, could you please go and tell Katy that she's staying?"

*

Adam pushes open the door of the kitchen hesitantly. Katy is still sitting where they left her, her hands cupped around a mug of something that looks like hot chocolate. Why did Adam not know that his coffee machine made hot chocolate?

"You can stay," he says. "For a few days."

She nods, wipes her eyes on a tissue and blows her nose. Adam turns to leave.

"Thank you," she says softly, staring into her mug.

Adam shrugs, ill at ease with the whole situation. "It's a big house, there's plenty of room -"

"Not for the - for Kris." She sniffs hard but doesn't look up. "He's too young to - God, you have no idea how scared I was. Until Cassidy came I was sure he was - thank you."

Adam hesitates, his hand on the doorway. "It should have been you," he says.

Fresh tears spill from her eyes; Adam leaves quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

Kris puts Katy in the room opposite him and leaves her to settle in while he digs through the cupboards for enough food to serve to three times the number of people he was expecting. He keeps having to pause to scrawl lyrics on the scrap of paper in his pocket and - when that's full - the backs of both his arms.

Katy comes in while he's frying mushrooms and scrawling 'Are _we still inside this night, or am I going crazy?_ ' on the inside of his elbow. Her eyes are still faintly red but her hair is damp and she's changed into a pair of his jeans and a plaid shirt that shrank in the wash. She laughs a little when she sees him, and crosses the kitchen to take the pen from his hand. "You still haven't learnt to carry a notebook then?" she comments, sitting at the kitchen table to watch him. "You're sweating your masterpiece away."

Kris glances down at his hands where the ink is running across his skin. "That bit was going anyway," he lies, giving the mushrooms one last shake before turning to see her. "Are you okay?"

She smiles. "You were right about the shower. Is there a rule that says fame should be judged based on the number of settings in your shower?" Her fingers don't stop moving, twisting and interlacing. "Thank you. You didn't have to - I mean, are you sure Adam's okay with this?"

Adam disappeared into his room with some muttered excuse about packing the moment Kris headed down to the kitchen. Kris got hard about five minutes after he vanished and he silently added 'packing' to the list of things Adam says when he means 'masturbating' before heading into the toilet to deal with it on his end.

He tried not to think about Adam but, as always, it didn't work. "He's not over the moon," Kris says, because even a blind guy would know that Adam was very much Not Okay with this. "I think he's worried when he goes on tour I'll fill the whole place with southern hicks."

She nods slowly, but doesn't say anything for a long moment. "I don't suppose you've been to a clinic at all?"

Kris knows very little about bond clinics except what he's researched since bonding. He knows normally there's a three to six month waiting period between a bond request and a bond. There are medical tests, relationship counselling, people actually go into the household to watch the couple function. In the event of a medical emergency - such as Kris's dad's illness - the process can be cut down to a week, on the condition that the couple have been together for a suitably long period beforehand.

"No."

She reaches into her purse. "They gave me a pamphlet. I know it's too late for us to - and it's too late for you to undo it but I just thought, if you were having problems." She pushes it a little closer to him. "They do drop in sessions, you could talk to someone. And - and this is a big city, there must be at least one priest who's open minded enough to -"

"No," Kris interrupts. "No priests." He tries not to think about the fact that he hasn't been to church since this started, about the fact that he's barely left the house at all. He takes the pamphlet, flicks it open to see the large slogan 'So _you want to have sex all the time? Don't worry, it's normal!_ ' and slams it shut again. "We're doing fine. If you reduce contact, it's just like there isn't a bond at all."

Katy frowns a little, but doesn't push the issue as Kris stands up to add peppers and tomatoes to the pan.

"Have you told your parents?"

He freezes for an instant, which is still long enough for her to take notice.

"Don't you think you should?"

He delays his answer as long as he can by adding more tomatoes and herbs to the mix. "I can't," he admits eventually. "Adam - you know how big he is. Apparently the label can't - this isn't the kind of thing they will accept from their _American Idol._ No one is allowed to know. _No one._ That's why I'm living here. I told my parents I got a job in a bar and a cheap one-room apartment. They offer to fly me home occasionally, but mostly they accept it and I can't tell them anything else so they just have to keep accepting it."

"The two of you really think you can keep something like this secret? That you can keep a bond secret? What are you going to say when they find out? That Adam used his celebrity status to push through a bond in an impossibly short time and then went on tour, leaving you behind?"

"We'll work something out. It's not your problem." He hesitates before adding, "You made it not your problem, remember?"

Katy's smile vanishes. "I suppose this is where you say that it's all my fault."

Kris holds his tongue for a moment but can't help throwing out. "Well isn't it? I go away and when I get back you're not only dating someone else, you've moved in with him? Without telling me? You cheat on me, you break up with me without so much as a word. You let me live in his house thinking it's ours?"

"I thought you were going to propose," Katy shouts. "You called me down to the living room, acting all serious and I was so naive I actually thought... and then you tell me you're going away for three months but it's okay because we love each other so much and it's so amazing that I'm always okay with your mission trips because you really feel like you're making a difference." She is forced to stop to take a deep breath and wipe her eyes fiercely with the back of one hand. "Then you left and I was on my own again standing in that cold, empty kitchen and thinking maybe I don't love you that much. Not quite that much."

Oh. Kris stares at the table for a long moment then turns to stir the dinner before it starts sticking to the pan. He wants to say 'I _loved you that_ much' but is uncomfortably aware that he was never the one left behind.

"I waited for you," Katy says softly. "Through Morocco and Thailand and Mozambique, I waited. I don't - this isn't me saying I don't love you, Kris, I do. But we're not right for each other, maybe we never were. I wanted a small house and a wedding ring and children someday; you wanted to go everywhere and do everything."

Kris closes his eyes for a moment. "I'm not going anywhere anymore."

Katy lets out a low laugh that might be a sob. "I guess not."

Kris serves the food onto two plates and pushes 'Food _'_ s _ready'_ at the part of his mind that has a constant need to know where Adam is, what he's doing, who he's with. It makes the headache worse - but then, everything makes the headache worse. He drops one plate in front of Katy and sits opposite her, suddenly not at all hungry. "Are you going back to Arkansas?"

She nods, pulling a tissue out of her pocket to blow her nose on. "As soon as I get my bank card."

"Adam could probably pay, if you want to save your money."

She smiles weakly, wiping her eyes carefully before reaching for her fork. "We're not all bonded to rock stars, Kris. I can afford it, you don't need to worry about me. I guess I'll go live with my parents."

Kris pokes his food with a fork for a moment. "You should use the money we saved to get a apartment. There's enough there to get a place for one."

She blushes. "It's not my money, Kris. That's - we saved it to get a place together."

"Most of it's yours," Kris reminds her. "There's not a lot of money in mission trips and college study. Consider the rest an apology for the last seven years."

"Kris, you can't just - what if you wanted somewhere to live?"

Kris forces a smile and leans back in his chair. "Adam," he yells through the house. "Can I have a couple of hundred grand to buy a house?"

There is the sound of something expensive falling on the floor and breaking. "Sure," Adam shouts. "Whatever you want."

Kris lets his chair fall back to the floor. "I'll be fine."

Katy still doesn't look convinced, but she lets it slide. "I'll tell your parents I saw you. That is, assuming they ever speak to me again."

"I'll talk to them," Kris promises. "Tell them we've talked it over and we're staying friends - we are staying friends, right?"

The first hint of a genuine smile touches her face. " _Always_."

*

Adam leaves two days later. They have to get all the staging, dancers, band, equipment and luggage onto the buses and get the buses to Pennsylvania in time for sound check so he leaves at what - to Kris - would be a ridiculous hour in the morning. Fortunately, Adam seems to require half the sleep of a normal person.

Kris wakes up on the day of Adam's departure with Adam's arms close around him, his head on Adam's shoulder and Adam's breathing soft against his neck. He holds still for a moment, letting Adam's skin wash away the itching and the headaches - all too aware that there will be no chance of this happening again for nearly two months.

It makes him tremble sometimes, thinking of two months without - not without touching Adam, because they're avoiding that - but without knowing that Adam could be there if Kris needs him. Like walking along a high wire and getting halfway across to find someone's taken away the safety net.

Not sure what else to do, he shifts to indicate he's awake and Adam's arms instantly loosen, letting him crawl back to the head of the bed and tug his knees against his chest. The itch starts again instantly, as though it wants Kris to be constantly ensconced in Adam's arms.

Adam stares uncomfortably at Kris's bedspread. "You were having a nightmare," he says. "Tossing, turning, screaming. I didn't know what else to do."

Kris can't remember his dream. He thinks there was a flashing light, maybe, and someone calling his name. He holds his legs tighter. "Well," he says. "Thanks for -"

"Don't," Adam interrupts. "It didn't help. Nothing helps."

Kris swallows so he doesn't ask how Adam knows or what else he's tried or how many times he's had this nightmare. "It must be early," he says instead. "I don't think you've brushed your hair."

Adam lets out a breath in a whoosh that is possibly supposed to be a laugh. "I haven't gone to bed," he says, reaching up to flatten his hair with one hand. "You - you asked about a house. Are you moving out?"

"No," Kris says quickly, not realizing until too late that Adam might have been trying to hint at something. "I mean, not unless you want me to. I could move out. I was just - Katy. I was making a point."

"Right. Katy." Adam brightens suddenly. "Is she moving out?"

"She's going back to Arkansas, probably this afternoon some time." Adam positively beams and Kris tries to smile back, but can't quite manage it, too busy thinking about how huge and empty Adam's house is going to be. "Then it'll just be me."

Adam's smile falls. "You could - I mean, Brad and Cass have both stayed here before. Or anyone, really. It's a big place, I'm not using it."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"You're welcome to any of the shows. Just call Lane - she'll get you a backstage pass and tickets and flights or - or whatever."

"I still don't like your music," Kris reminds him.

"Oh. Yeah. Okay." Adam clasps his hands then unclasps them. "Well you have my phone number if you - if you need it. Call any time, seriously. I'm sure I'll spend half my time bored out of my mind." He drags a hand through his hair, then turns to lean in to drop a kiss on Kris's forehead. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

He stands up and is gone in a whirl. Kris touches the lightly damp patch on his forehead and reflects that one chaste kiss won't last him seven weeks.

Then Kris remembers that they're not even supposed to be kissing and he's not - he can't _afford_ to want this. There's no way of knowing what's him and what's -

And anyway Adam wouldn't be his type even if he liked guys and Adam doesn't like him and he's just got too much time to think. That's the problem.

*

Adam calls after three days. Kris is lying on the sofa when the phone rings and he almost doesn't bother to answer it at all, then he realizes that Adam is calling his cell which is in his pocket and therefore not answering it is pretty much the ultimate example of sloth. He slides it out and flicks it open. "Adam."

It takes him a moment to realize that he didn't even look at the caller ID and it could be anyone - it could be his _parents_ \- before Adam replies. "Hey Kristopher, have you burnt my house down yet?"

Kris puts in the effort required to lift his head and glance around before slumping back onto the cushions. "Nope," he says. "Not yet. How's...?" he trails off.

"I left my itinerary on the fridge," Adam says - Kris can hear him pouting. "And I'm in New Jersey. We have a few days off - well, Lane calls them days off but what she means is interviews and photo shoots and more rehearsals."

Kris reflects that if he had an appropriate weight, he could hit the end of the remote control and send it flipping into his lap. "Sounds like fun."

There is an awkward silence. "Is Katy still there?" Adam asks.

"Nope."

"Lane's giving me that look - I should probably go."

"Fine," Kris says, but Adam keeps hesitating.

"Are you - do you want me to send Brad over? Or - or you could go to a party. Or shopping. I don't - are you okay?"

"How's the headache on your end?"

Adam lets the silence drag on for a moment too long. "Look, I really have to go. You're in LA, Kris. Go have some fun." He hangs up.

Kris looks at the phone in his hand then tosses it carefully.

It makes a pleasing snapping sound as it hits the floor and the remote control lands perfectly in Kris's lap.

He's definitely going to move at some point. Probably.

*

He's in the kitchen the next time Adam calls - this time on the main line - and he picks it up without really thinking. "Adam," he says.

"You turned your phone off," Adam accuses. "Do you know where I am?"

Kris looks over at the fridge where Adam's neatly typed itinerary is held up by alphabet magnets spelling 'GLAM.' It's all very clear about where Adam is on what date. Kris glances at the clock on the wall and wonders what day it is.

Adam sighs. "I'm in Iowa. It's raining."

It must be the tenth. "How was Ohio?"

"Rainy. I always thought the life of a rock star was all sea, sun and sand."

Kris tugs open the fridge. Eggs, half a pack of melted cheese and some ham that might or might not have gone off. Omelettes it is. "Serves you right for releasing a dance album."

"I wonder if Lady Gaga has someone at home who she calls whenever she craves verbal abuse."

"Feel free to give her my number." Kris finds a pan and takes the eggs out of the fridge. "Do you know how to make an omelette?"

"I think the phone number for Dominoes is on the mantelpiece."

"If we both fuck up our arteries, they won't fix themselves." He looks at the egg for a moment longer. "Does Dominoes deliver salads?"

Adam laughs. "Did Katy get home okay?"

"She's fine, back with her parents but looking for apartments in Jacksonville. I didn't sleep with her, since you're carefully not asking. How is kissing your hot bassist every night going?"

"I - Kris -"

"Where do you keep the Tylenol?"

Adam sighs audibly this time. "In the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. Kris - have you thought about talking to someone? I know you don't want to hear it but distractions help with the - with the side effects. Maybe if you spoke to a professional they could recommend something?"

"I'll bear that in mind."

"And it's not healthy being cooped up on your own all the time. You do have friends, remember."

"I have your friends."

"Okay. Okay, but think about it. I have to go, just don't - don't let this ruin your life. And turn your phone on."

Kris drops the handset back on the holder and glances through to the living room where there are still plastic shards scattered across the floor.

He really ought to buy a new cell phone. It's been... five days. _It's been five days_. He turns back to the kitchen and his eyes fall on the leaflet, still on the table where Katy left it.

 _Your Bond and You._

He bites his lip, then snatches the phone and makes an appointment before he can change his mind.

*

"So," says Madeline Fisher, clasping her hands over her expensive oak desk and leaning forward to show that she is giving Kris her full - and unnervingly intense - attention. "How often do you and your bond have sex?"

Kris goes from normal to bright red in 0.3 seconds. "Uh - what?"

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, Mr. Allen." She smiles what is clearly supposed to be a reassuring smile. "I promise you, I've heard it all. I've had people tell me things which I can't help thinking are physically impossible. You're already on the lower end of the spectrum considering the amount of time you've sat here talking to me. You wouldn't believe the number of bonds who need it so much that they have it right here in front of me." She laughs. "That's why I replaced my couch with a futon, you know."

Kris glances down at the futon he's sitting on and carefully inches forward until he's touching it as little as possible. When the pamphlet said this was a clinic where people were encouraged to be open, he hadn't expected this.

"It's not - we're not like that."

Her smile turns into a carefully cultivated polite frown. "Are you not getting enough?" she asks carefully. "You've been bonded for - what -" she glances down at the questionnaire Kris had been told to fill out while he waited. "Three weeks now?"

"Three weeks and three days," Kris clarifies.

"I see." She looks over her glasses in a concerned fashion. "You know, Mr Allen, it is not at all shameful to request time off work so you can have more sex. The first few weeks of a new bond are the most important time for you and your partner -" she trails off, looking down at the 'partner' section of Kris's questionnaire that is completely blank save for the box he ticked next to 'male.' Kris has to give her a few points for not blanching at the (only legal in five states) same-sex bond. Clearly Katy chose the right clinic.

She glances across the rest of the page then picks up her pen with the determined expression of someone who is going to do her job properly or die trying. She starts at the top, skimming over the questions Kris did answer - name, date of birth, home state - until she reaches the first blank. "How long have you and your partner been dating?"

"We haven't." Kris leans over to point at where he'd ticked the box marked 'special circumstances.'

"I see. So one of you was ill at the time of bonding?"

"Yes."

She purses her lips slowly. "Mr. Allen I need to know, were you coerced into this bond to heal a partner you knew little about? Because there are protocols to deal with that - no one would blame you for breaking a bond created under duress -"

"No," Kris interrupts quickly. "I mean, I don't know. I was the ill one. Maybe I coerced him but I don't - I was unconscious at the time."

She holds her pen over the form for a moment then leaves the question blank. "How long was the period of deliberation between deciding to bond and bonding? I'm aware that there were special circumstances so... two weeks?" She frowns at his expression. "A week?" she offers in the tone of someone pushed to the limit. "How many days?"

Kris swallows. "I think five minutes? Adam offered and then the doctors tried to talk him out of it and then I died so the decision had to be made quickly." He stares at the pen she's flicking between her fingers so he doesn't have to see her expression. "Apparently doctors tend to err on the side of saving people and working out the details afterwards. They made it very clear that if I wanted to die, they would break the bond without asking too many questions."

The pen dances for a moment over the option of '2 weeks or less' then puts a tick very firmly in the box. "So how long had you known - Adam, is that his name? - before you woke up bonded to him?"

Kris is pretty sure the question isn't 'How long have you known of his existence?' so he doesn't say 'Since the beginning of Idol season 8.' "I -" he says slowly. "I didn't. That's where we met. I've known him for three weeks and -"

"And three days," she finishes, and when he glances up he sees that she is staring down at the form with a slightly expression of despair on her face as she carefully ticks 'six months or less.' "This is - I must say it's unusual. You said you died? So presumably they restarted your heart for long enough to create the bond."

"I guess."

She taps the end of her pen against the page. "Those bonds - they don't normally take." She looks down at the next question - 'How long have you and your partner been thinking about bonding?' - but doesn't bother to read it out.

Kris edges forward a little more on the futon. "With all respect, Miss Fisher -"

"Maddy," she corrects, in the tones of one who has lost all hope.

"Maddy," Kris says. "I'm not - I don't think the form is all that useful in my particular circumstance. Our bond - it isn't exactly normal and I just came because I wanted to ask a few questions about - " he can feel his face turning pink, but Maddy brought it up first and she doesn't seem at all opposed to being open. "About the sex thing."

Maddy strengthened her grip on the pen and flicked through the questionnaire. "Okay," she says, finding the sex question that Kris had left blank because it was stupid. What kind of question goes up to 50+ but only down as far as 2?

"How many times do you and your bond have sex per day?" she reads out and looks up at him to smile reassuringly. "It doesn't matter if you can't be too precise, but the more accurate you are now the more help I'll be able to give you. There's no shame in my office, Mr. Al-"

"None," Kris says, mostly to stop her talking.

Her pen hovers over '35 to 50.' "Take all the time you need," she says. "I know sex has a variable definition to some people but really anything that you think of as -"

"None," Kris says again, starting to wish he'd gone to one of the more prudish bond clinics where - presumably - they would just give him some kind of magic cure and he wouldn't have to talk about this.

"Is that one? An average of once per day seems highly unlikely for a bond in the early -"

Kris snatches the pen from her hand. "We haven't had sex," he snaps. "I haven't slept with Adam. He hasn't slept with me. I haven't got naked with him. I haven't gone anywhere near his -" he bites down on the rest of that sentence. "We kissed," he throws out, dropping the pen onto the form where it spins for a moment before coming to a stop pointing at '50+.' "Once. Well, twice, but in one sitting."

Maddy stares at the pen as though maybe it will suddenly come to life and fix the universe. "That's - Mr. Allen - Kristopher - you can't. I know that you think your bond is special and it's certainly one of - one of the stranger ones but you can't just - the sex is - _three weeks and three days_?"

Kris drops back onto the futon and lets his head fall into his hands. "That's why I'm here."

"Of course, of course, I'll find you a coupon - they give us piles of the things, good advertising. Sex toys, outfits, lube, whatever you need. Just give me a -"

"No," Kris says, cringing a little. "No, I didn't mean - I need to get rid of it. I need you to tell me how to get rid of it."

She pauses, frowning. "The bond?"

"No, not the -" he rubs the back of his neck, looking up. "The headaches, the itching, the way my skin crawls. I need - I need to not know when he's sad or when he's on stage. I need to not - I need it to not burn when he sleeps with someone else or kisses -"

Maddy slowly moves away from the drawers, straightening up before leaning forward over the desk. "I'm sorry," she says, in slow, careful syllables. "Did you say 'sleeps with someone else'?"

Kris pushes the futon back. "I shouldn't have come."

"Kristopher, where is your partner now?"

"Ohio, I think. Or driving back to Ohio. I don't know, he hasn't called in a few days."

"Oh God." She drops her head into her hands, loose strands of hair falling between her fingers. "Do you - does he - the first few weeks are the most important -"

"The plan was to ignore it," Kris says, sinking slowly back onto the chair. "And wait for it to go away."

"Wait for it to -" She glances up at him between her fingers. "Did you not - did no one think to - of course, you didn't go through any of the bond preparation. Oh God."

"He's not - he has a boyfriend," Kris elaborates. "Who is not me. And I'm straight. Straightish. Well, I'm still working it out but I've been straight most of my life so far so - yeah."

"If I could, I would buy you a plane ticket to Ohio because you don't seem to understand how important this is. Bonds are not designed for abstinence, why do you think so many churches preach against them? It's bad for you and just as bad for your partner." She pushes a small square of paper towards him. "Here is your coupon. It's valid in most L.A. sex shops or there are a few good places online. Find out what it takes to push Adam into the 'ish' side of 'straightish,' buy it, then fly to Ohio and _sleep with your bond._ "

Kris opens his mouth to say he just wanted some help with the headaches, but Maddy looks like she's about to cry so he just takes the scrap of paper and pushes it into his back pocket. "You can't - you're not allowed to tell anyone about this. No matter how much money they offer you or -"

"Client confidentiality," Maddy says, sinking back onto her chair. "I'm not saying anything."

"Okay. Okay great." He stands up slowly, inching out backwards as though Maddy will break down the moment he turns his back.

As soon as he's out of the office, he bolts down the corridors and out the main doors. Bill - the bodyguard who has apparently been assigned to protecting Kris and hiding him from every camera ever - glances at him. "Was it helpful?" he asks.

Kris thrusts his coupon into the man's hands. "Use it, chuck it, burn it, I don't care," he says. "Can we go home now?"

Bill thumps him reassuringly on the shoulder. "You'll figure it out," he says.

"I hear some people enjoy sex," Kris says, climbing into the back of Adam's Mustang. "That must be nice."

*

Kris finally calls Cassidy the day after that - which turns out to be a mistake because he ends up inviting Cass over and they go into his bedroom where Cass gets a full glimpse of Kris's closet and looks like he might cry.

"What you have to consider," he says, dropping a plaid shirt into what Kris calls the 'plaid pile' and Cass calls the 'burn it pile.' "Is what your clothes say about _you._ "

Kris kicks a few shirts under the bed to protect them. "That I don't walk around naked?"

Cassidy gives him a pained look and they spend the next three days clothes shopping.

Kris liked apathy better.

*

He calls Brad after finally convincing Cassidy to 'go _release a single or something_.' Brad comes in beaming and they spend a day watching trashy rom-coms that Kris shreds and Brad weeps over.

"You have no heart," Brad accuses as Hugh Grant confesses his love to blonde actress for approximately the millionth time.

"Do you seriously watch these things for fun?" Kris asks.

Kris doesn't comment on the fact that Brad has carefully picked the movies where no one bonds, but he does invite him to stay the night.

He is woken at midnight by Brad leaning over and shaking him, a concerned look on his face. "I think you were having a nightmare."

Oh. Kris rolls over so Brad can't see his face. "Sorry for waking you."

Brad stays a couple more days and the concerned look doesn't leave his face.

*

Adam calls again from Indiana, all bounciness and life in the empty house. "Hey there Kristopher Neil Allen."

"You seem happy about something." Kris swears he can hear Adam beaming down the line.

"It isn't raining," he says happily. "It hasn't rained _at all_ since we got here. Isn't that amazing?"

"I gave free sex toys to my bodyguard."

"Because you _live to hurt me._ " Adam laughs - it's nice to know someone finds the whole situation amusing. "Have you watched me on YouTube yet? I only kiss Tommy during Fever and you hate that song anyway, so it works out."

"I think I hate you."

"I have to go. I'll call you from New York - I'm going to New York!"

"Have f-" Kris starts, but Adam has already hung up.

*

Adam calls him at 2am - which is, like, 5am in New York - to say "Kris, honey, one of us has got to get some sleep tonight and it isn't going to be me."

Kris pushes the phone against his ear with one shoulder to scrawl a couple of lines of lyrics on the pad of paper sitting next to him - _Takes me to, some higher place_. He almost drops his guitar in the process, but that's life. "Does sleep even work like that?"

Adam laughs - because he's having the time of his life, not sitting alone in a massive fucking house trying to write a song for no reason other than that he has nothing the hell else to do. "Won't know until we try, darling."

Kris wants to say that he's just cracked this song, and he isn't even tired, _and why is Adam's party more important than Kris's life anyway_.

But he knows the answer is because Adam is the famous one and the rich one and Kris is basically just the squatter living in a very tiny section of Adam's house and trying not to feel utterly rejected.

He hangs up, drops his guitar on the sofa and goes to bed.

*

Apparently sleep does work like that because Kris finds himself sleeping longer and longer hours when Adam calls again from - Washington? Or maybe Baltimore? - he's all bright and perky, saying "Oh, Kris you have no idea how much more _time_ you have when you don't need to sleep."

Kris sits up in bed, tucking the phone against his ear. "I wouldn't know," he says. "I seem to do nothing else."

"Don't worry, when I get back from this I'll probably crash for, like, a month and you can share in the joys of a twenty four hour day." A door opens and Kris hears music in the background, the clinking of glasses.

"Are you in a bar?"

Adam laughs. "Of course! We're having a day off in Washington. Getting drunk is essential."

Kris slumps back onto his pillows and rolls his eyes because Adam _knows_ they can't get drunk since whatever stupid magic made this bond identifies alcohol as another toxin. As long as Kris's blood is alcohol-free, the bond will keep Adam sober.

If it didn't work like that, Adam's drinks cabinet would be a whole lot emptier and Kris would care a lot less about everything.

Adam interrupts his musings to ask in a faux casual voice, one that Kris sees through immediately. "You drink, right?"

And the next thing Kris knows he is sprawled on the sofa after downing basically an entire bottle of very expensive vodka from Adam's drinks cabinet because Adam wanted to be drunk.

Adam doesn't hang up the whole time, he must have his Bluetooth on or something and Kris can hear him dance for a while then say goodnight and head back to the bus, still with a glass in one hand. He slumps on his bunk and talks about - about total shit. The show, the music, which of his dancers are 'so hot, Kris, you have _no idea._ This is agony, total _agony.'_

Kris listens to his voice get more slurred and his comments lewder until something like 3am and Kris is too drunk to be in his right mind when he kicks his jeans half off and reaches for his cock. Adam's voice hitches briefly as though he knows exactly what Kris is doing, and then Kris feels a phantom hand closing over his own and knows Adam is also drunk enough to think this is a fucking amazing idea.

His voice is low through the receiver, detailing in clear, precise words exactly what he's been planning for the last month and a half. "Going to unbutton that fucking shit so slowly, touch you, kiss you. God Kris you're so fucking -"

It's like phone sex, but so much _more_ because Kris feels Adam's orgasm a moment before his own. The phone falls from his hand but he swears he can still hear Adam's voice in his ear, feel Adam's hands pressing him down into the sofa.

"So good, so perfect, so glad we -"

That's about when Kris blacks out.

*

"Fuck," is the first thing Adam says down the line next morning, sounding like he was aiming for 'sharp and direct' but got distracted by the same hangover that is stopping Kris from opening his eyes. Kris waves a hand vaguely down the side of the couch and manages to close his fingers around the tiny phone, only dropping it three times between the carpet in his ear.

Adam is apparently waiting for a reply. Kris manages an unintelligible moan of assent and attempts to pat down his pockets in case he's concealing a gallon or so of water down there somewhere.

"We can still do the cold turkey thing," Adam says. "Last night was just a hiccup. And we were drunk, so it doesn't count."

Kris's jeans are still kind of sticky and his back hurts because he slept on the fucking couch. He moans again.

"So it won't happen again. It won't happen again and I'll go to a hotel when I'm in California and we can... we can still work this out and that moaning thing is really... can you not do it please?"

Kris moans a tiny bit more just to see and - yes - he can feel Adam's slight tremble running right down through him.

"Shit - Kris - are you even listening - fuck -"

Which is how Kris has phone sex for the second time in his life and Adam stops calling from the tour.

*

Adam starts sleeping again - for at least a couple of hours every night. Kris finishes two more songs, records them in Adam's state-of-the-art studio and tries not to think about counting down the days to the California shows and Adam's first trip home since this whole tour began.

The one thing that makes the long, empty weeks between the phone sex and Adam visit bearable is the knowledge that - for the first time - Adam is coming closer. Sure, he's taking a somewhat winding route but most nights he is closer to LA than the night before, and the first San Francisco show is on the 23rd - after which Adam will be in California for a full week. Kris doesn't lose track of the date anymore.

He can admit that now - yes - he has seen Adam's shows on YouTube. He avoids Fever like the plague but still flinches every time Adam presses against Tommy or pulls him close or wraps an arm lazily around him.

Instead, he focuses on how Adam is an idiot. Apparently he has decided to take the bond as a reason to have the most death-defying show of all time. He leaps off amps, climbs the staging. Kris watches him fall on one video over and over again. All the comments say how amazing Adam's reactions are in these situations - the dive roll at the AMAs, and now a perfect landing after falling off the scaffolding while running along the top of the stage at one of his concerts.

Kris is pretty sure he's the only one who sees Adam's flash of pain as his legs breaks in three places then fuses itself back together, but then again, he's the only person who would think to look.

How much pain medication is Adam on for the headache that a broken leg isn't even worthy of a cry of pain?

Kris pushes this thought down because he doesn't - he isn't _allowed_ to care and he doesn't call Adam's cell (which won't be answered), or Lane's private line (which will). He goes into Adam's studio instead and writes a loud, bouncy chorus to a song called _'Alright With Me'_ in the hope that his mind will get the message.

*

Kris has a ticket and a backstage pass for the second San Francisco show - Adam promised it was going to be one of the better California shows and he really had to drive up for it and eventually it was agreed that he would go - but wakes up on the 23rd knowing that there is no way he is waiting any longer than is absolutely necessary for the chance to see him again. He starts up Adam's laptop and checks online for tickets. There are none, not even for hundreds of dollars on eBay. He looks at the screen for a moment and thinks he should probably give up and just wait for Adam to stumble in tonight - or more like tomorrow morning - then he pushes the laptop aside and picks up his phone.

Adam doesn't answer, but Lane does. "Kristopher," she says crisply. "I'm rather busy - can this wait?"

"I want - Adam said to call you if I wanted to see the show." Kris hesitates at Adam's window, looking out at the gardeners working on Adam's pristine lawn. He doesn't think Adam has ever been out there. "I thought - I can get to San Francisco on time, right?"

"Sure, sure. Your name's on the guest list. I'll send Bill to pick you up. See you tonight."

"See you -" Kris starts, but Lane has already hung up. He sighs and opens his closet. Plaid, plaid, plaid, it shouldn't bother him - this is what he _wears¬,_ he's not some All American Kid who has to get the 'LA Look' the moment he enters California. He won't fit in with Adam's fans anyway, not unless he sneaks into Adam's bathroom and messes with bottles until he gets the 'accident in a glitter factory' look that the glamberts tend to prefer.

So plaid is fine. Plaid shirt, T-shirt, loose jeans. If he looks stupid and out of place, so what? He's Adam's fucking bond, isn't he? He has more right to be there than anyone.

He hesitates a moment longer. "Screw it," he snaps, tugging open the other closer drawer to snatch the tight, dark jeans, black leather jacket and too-tight T-shirt that Cass insisted he buy.

Adam has about a million bottles scattered around his bathroom - and this is after taking about a million more with him on tour. Kris looks at them for a moment then goes back into Adam's room and the make-up table. It can't exactly hurt to try and fit in. Just this once.

*

There is a small balcony at the back of the concert hall. Kris stands up there with the parents and a couple of 'too cool for this' guys who check him out unsubtly before the lights go down for the first act. Kris turns his head to meet the eyes of one of them and - instead of looking away - the man smiles and flicks his eyebrows, as if to say 'Interested _?_ '

Fortunately the lighting isn't good enough to him to see Kris's slight blush. Kris knew Adam had gay fans - probably quite a few - he never exactly expected to be hit on my one of them. He's saved from having to reply by the lights going down and Allison stepping on stage.

She's just as incredible as she was on Idol and it's just as impossible to believe that she's barely eighteen. Kris is so engrossed in the set that he hardly notices when his admirer presses against the bar beside him. He doesn't even think of the man until later that night when Adam is starting Fever and Tommy is tilting his head back a little in preparation.

Then he tugs the man around and leans up before he can think better of it, letting the stranger press his fingers against Kris's jaw and his lips against Kris's. It's nothing like kissing Adam. There's no instant easing of the discomfort, no warmth around wrapped around him, no complete and utter conviction that this is where he is supposed to be and what he is supposed to be doing.

He breaks the kiss and looks around in time to see Adam stumble, miss his cue for the Tommy kiss entirely and forget the lines of his own song in the process.

Kris doesn't hang around after that. He waits for the stranger to murmur something about going to the toilet with a suggestive 'Meet _you there?_ ' raise of the eyebrows, then heads down the stairs and out the main doors.

Bill looks over from where he's standing with a couple of Adam's bodyguards. "Are you alright?" he asks.

Kris brushes the back of one hand across his face. It comes away adorned with glitter.

"I'm - yeah - let's just get out of here."

*

Adam is in the kitchen when Kris goes down for - well, it's more like lunch than breakfast - the next day. His make-up is smudged, but he hasn't got rid of it and he's slumped at the kitchen table as though he's thinking about falling asleep right there.

"The itch keeps me awake," Adam says, without looking up. "It's more like a burn now, only all over my body and I just want to scratch it until I can tear it off but it's inside me too. I can't sleep, I spend half my life tired as fuck and stumbling through the concert every night. Sometimes it feels like my head is going to split open and no amount of painkillers help. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Welcome home."

"You're coming to the San Franciso show, right? Your name is on all the lists for entry with a backstage pass, everyone wants to meet you."

"I'm coming." He crosses to the coffee machine, trying to be subtle about reaching up with one hand to check he got all the glitter out of his hair. "How was last night's show?"

Adam moans softly, dropping his head into his arms. "Don't talk to me about last night's show. I'm hoping if I pretend it didn't exist, I can wipe it from the space time continuum."

"That good, huh." Kris presses a few buttons to get the basic coffee Adam always has, in defiance of the fact that he has a coffee machine capable of creating minor miracles. "What went wrong?"

"I don't know." Adam lifts his head up long enough to take the mug and bury his nose in the fumes. "I - I got distracted. I kept thinking about -" he trails off. "It was probably too - I was too nervous about coming home after - after what happened in Washington."

Kris busies himself making the most complicated drink he can so he doesn't start thinking about alcohol and phones and mistakes. "What happens in Washington, stays in Washington," he says, careful to keep his tone light, before sitting down at the table. "So, is the tour everything you ever wanted? Are you having the time of your life?"

"It's -" Adam drags a hand backwards through his hair. He looks impossibly tired. "Good. It's good. The fans - they seem to be enjoying it and that's what it's about, isn't it. That's what matters." It sounds more like a question than it should be.

For the first time, Kris finds himself wondering if maybe Adam only phoned home when he was happy. Or if the last month with no contact has been just as hard on Adam as it has been on Kris. "You should go to bed," Kris says, reaching out to touch his shoulder, remembering at the last minute and jerking his hand away.

Adam reaches up for his own shoulder - as though he expected to catch Kris's hand there - then slumps forward a little. "I'm not coming back tonight," he says. "There's something - there's a lot of driving to do." He hesitates. "You're coming to San Francisco tomorrow?"

"Yes," Kris says - again. "I'll be there."

*

Bill drives him all the way up the coast for the second time in three days and they listen to Michael Jackson, debating furiously about which period was his best and whether 'This _is It'_ was a homage or a travesty.

Kris has left his hair as rumpled and un-styled as ever and he ignored Adam's text that morning that said, 'The show is called Glamnation so people GLAM UP. That means u, Kris!!!! :)' in favor of a normal plaid shirt.

He did wear the tight jeans, but he's pretty sure Adam won't notice. The bouncer on the door certainly doesn't care at all when Kris tries to explain that no, he doesn't look at all like someone who might have a backstage pass, but seriously if the guy just goes inside for a minute and _looks_ at the guest list, Kris's name is right there on it.

The girls at the front of the queue who are nestled in sleeping bags - proudly explaining to the bouncer that they've been waiting patiently for over twenty-four hours without once lying to try and get in - give Kris dirty looks. He moves away from the queue and pulls out his phone. Adam doesn't answer the call, but when Kris texts, 'door _guy wont let me in, not pretty enough_ ,' it takes less than five minutes for one of the back stage crew to come around a side door with a clipboard.

"Kris Allen?" he says, as the queue of girls make high pitched noises and start asking if he's seen Adam and how long until they're allowed in and 'OhmyGod _ohmyGod ohmyGod_.'

Kris waves and the crew member pushes through the line to grab his arm and lead him towards the main door. "He's with one of the dancers," Kris's crew member snaps at the bouncer. "His name's on all the lists. Learn how to do your fucking job." Then he tugs Kris through the doorway. "Adam's in Allie's dressing room," he explains. "I've been told to leave you with them; I guess Adam will tell you where to find your sister."

Kris nods, as though he has a sister, and allows himself to be propelled through a door with a faded star printed on it.

He is immediately assaulted by a red haired tornado with a surprisingly crushing hug who cries his name with gusto. "Kristopher!"

Kris possibly panics a little because _Allison Iraheta is hugging him and oh God Katy is never going to believe this._

He refuses to think that Katy was probably more excited about Adam, the heathen. "Um," he says, when Allison gives him space to breathe. "Hi. Wow, this is, I really like your voice. I voted for you every week on Idol, I can't believe that asshole Gokey beat you."

Allison's smile grows into an all-out beam, and somewhere behind her Adam snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Voted for Danny indeed, fucking liar." But when Allison moves out the way, Adam is smiling. "Hey Kris," he says. "Welcome to the high life."

The high life is a tiny dressing room with snot colored walls that smells faintly of piss, but there is a dingy sofa in the middle of the room on which Adam and a couple of the female dancers that Kris doesn't recognize are sitting.

Kris wonders briefly if some memo went ahead telling everyone who Adam had kissed, thought about kissing, or might ever want to kiss to stay the hell away.

He sits on the opposite end of the sofa to Adam as Allison talks ten to the dozen and a woman with purple spiked hair does her make-up. "So you really liked me more than Adam?" she asks eagerly, while her hair is elaborately arranged to show off the blue highlights. "I mean, a lot of people _say_ they voted for me but what they mean is they fired off one vote in between voting for him - like - a bazillionty times."

"I only voted for Adam in the finale," Kris says, glancing over to see that Adam is too busy arguing about glitter mascara with a dancer to pay attention.

Allison raises her eyebrows. "You liked _No Boundaries_?"

Kris snorts. "No, but Danny threw flour in your face so I figured you'd prefer it if he won."

Allison claps her hands together and positively beamed. "I like this one," she says to Adam. "I think you should give him to me, you clearly don't deserve him."

Kris laughs and says, "I'd take you any day, Miss Iraheta," which makes Allie blush and grin even wider.

*

Kris watches Allie perform but when Orianthi goes on, he finds Adam's dressing room which smells like piss with an overlay of rose spray and has walls that seem slightly closer to their original color.

Kris lies on the sofa while Adam does his make-up. "I think you should let me give you a makeover," Adam says. "Otherwise the bouncer might throw you out of the wings because you're too lacking in fabulousity to come anywhere near me."

"I'll have you know I'm glamtastic."

Adam laughs, a surprised little laugh that sends glitter everywhere. "And you mocked me for Glamnation," he says, all mock-seriousness. "For shame, Kristopher. For shame."

"Oh, Adam," Kris says. "You're such a glanimal."

Adam throws a pot of glitter at him - without bothering to put the lid on first - and when a stage hand comes to tell them that Adam needs to get to the stage, they're both shimmering from head to foot and laughing. "Are you going to watch the whole show?" Adam asks, grabbing his jacket from the chair and pulling it on to complete the look. "Or am I going to have to perform knowing that Kris Allen is lying on a sofa in my dressing room covered from head to toe in edible body glitter."

For an instant, this statement doesn't seem so innocent. Adam stills, his fingers resting on the back of the chair and Kris finds his mind filling up with images of all the things that could happen from here if they do anything other than stand up and walk to the stage. Adam leaning over him, his tongue brushing the glitter off Kris's skin. Kris removing the glitter from Adam's eyelids one shimmering flake at a time as Adam's eyelashes brush against his -

Kris forces a laugh and Adam laughs too and it's horribly awkward but the moment passes. Adam swipes his hat and Kris follows him out to the wings where the female dancers glare at them for being late and someone has cleverly arranged to have Tommy on the other side of the stage.

"Hey," says Monte, holding out a hand across his guitar. "Cass says you're quite the musician."

Adam glances over - his expression surprised as though he'd once again forgotten that Kris plays guitar. Then someone calls for quiet and Monte turns away leaving Kris and Adam in peace for a moment.

Adam is bouncing on the balls of his feet - suddenly wide awake and raring to go as though someone has snuck in to shoot him full of adrenalin between the dressing room and now. "Wish me luck," Adam says with a grin, and he goes for a hug on instinct before remembering that this is Kris and they - they don't do that so he goes to pull away and ends up brushing his hand against Kris's fingers.

Somehow the briefest instant of contact turns into a touch, then a hold then a clasp and their second hands are coming in until their holding on to each other like a pair of lovers straight out of a fairytale. The light from the stage catches the glitter in Adam's eyelashes, making his eyes look impossibly blue as though the whole ocean has been pushed into two tiny specks in the shadows of the stage.

Kris's throat is almost painfully dry and his fingers are tingling with promise and possibilities. "Luck," he breathes.

Adam's mouth is slightly open and for a moment Kris thinks he will - for a moment Kris wants to - then the music ends and Adam tugs his hands free to run onto the stage. "Hello San Francisco!"

Kris has never seen a concert from the wings before but it seems to him that Adam is more vibrant than he has ever been. Adam smiles, throws his head back into laughs then in the acoustic session he seems close to tears and half the audience are crying with him. He drags them along through every stop on the emotional rollercoaster of a set and performs every encore he's ever done on the tour until someone from the venue actually goes on stage to tell him that as much as the concert is amazing and the staff are loving it, there are rules about the hours people can work and some people have to get up tomorrow.

Adam stumbles off into the wings and Kris doesn't hesitate before darting forward to hold him up.

They kiss in the back of Bill's car, falling asleep together somewhere between leaving the city and arriving home at crazy o'clock in the morning

Kris can't bring himself to regret a moment.


	4. Chapter 4

Adam is woken by someone lightly shaking his shoulder. For a moment he's confused by the lack of motion - has the bus got to wherever the fuck he's going (He'll remember after coffee, he's sure) already?

Then he opens his eyes properly and takes in the sunrise over the house, his house, the ridiculous mansion that he hasn't lived in enough to really think of as his own. Adam blinks and the foreground blurs into focus revealing a bodyguard - the one with the strange facial hair who stayed in LA to look after his kids and hide Kris from the paparazzi.

"Mr. Lambert," he says. "I took the liberty of waking you first."

 _First?_ Adam thinks, sure this sentence is missing some kind of explanation.

"I - ahem - wasn't sure what you were intending to do. About - ahem - Mr. Allen."

Adam blinks a few more times up at him before thinking to look down at the warmth settled in his lap. He doesn't jump - but it's only through sheer force of will because Kris is curled up against him, his arms looped around Adam's shoulder and one of Adam's arms wrapped around his waist.

Kris's legs are tucked up against him on the seat. His face is clear of all distaste and mockery. He's younger than he looks, Adam realizes. He never asked, Kris never said. Adam looks back at the bodyguard who is still watching him with a polite 'I _'_ m _not seeing anything unless you want me to_ be' expression. "He sleeps deeply," the man comments, apparently idly. "You could get out without waking him."

Adam had kissed him. He remembers stumbling off stage full of adrenaline and Kris sparkling under the lights, all in plaid and denim like a Christmas present Adam couldn't wait to unwrap. Kris had moved towards him and Adam had wrapped his arms around him and one of the bodyguards - the same one watching him now - had carefully shepherded them away from all the people and into the back of the car.

Kris had pressed up against him, Adam had pushed his head back and - _God -_ Kris's mouth, Kris's - he'd almost managed to forget but last night brought it all back. Kris's lips parting beneath Adam's, Kris's tongue flicking out to invite him in, Kris's fingers painfully tight on Adam's hair, teasing it free from the product and the hairspray until it flowed over his fingers.

Kris's shirt is unbuttoned, Adam did that. He pressed Kris against the window, let Kris bury his face in Adam's neck as he undid them one by one, his hand running down until it brushed the waistband of Kris's jeans where - where he hesitated and Kris moaned beneath him.

Adam lifts Kris as gently as he can, ignoring the soft noise that Kris makes - a disgruntled sort of murmur that turns Adam on so bad - as he resettles against the car seat. He can't help teasing his fingers a little against the ends of Kris's hair as he lets go.

He climbs out slowly, brushing his hair off his face and praying he doesn't look too terrible in front of the bodyguard. "I need to go inside and get some things. Could you not wake him until I tell you?"

"Of course, Mr. Lambert."

Adam nods, brushing his hair back again as though he can achieve the pompadour with force of will. "And, and I'm going to need a car. An empty one. And another driver. And -" he touches his thighs but - of course - he's still in his fucking stage pants which have no pockets. "And a phone, could I borrow your phone?"

A phone is pushed into his hands. It's not a smart phone, it looks like it barely has internet but Lane's number is in the contacts and he thumbs it as he heads for the house, not remembering until he reaches the door that his house key is with his phone and his money and everything else he owns on a bus, probably still driving from the venue.

He turns to head back to the car, but find the bodyguard standing a few steps behind him on the path, holding out his own ring of keys. Adam takes them slowly. "Thank you, Mr. - ?"

"Bill, Mr. Lambert. Call me Bill."

"Right." Adam smiles at him. "In that case you can call me Adam."

Bill nods. Adam doubts he'll do any such thing. "Of course, sir," he says. "I'll just drive around the block a few times with Kr - Mr. Allen then, while you're in the house. I'll tell the label to send a car for you."

He has a disarmingly charming smile. Adam is turning back to the door when he suddenly thinks of something. "Bill?"

The man turns back. "Mr. Lambert?"

Fucking professionals. "Kris - was he sleeping soundly the whole way back? No bad dreams?"

"Slept like a log, sir."

So Kris dealt with the nightmares. That's - that's good. Adam focuses on that and doesn't think that Kris got rid of them without him and didn't bother to mention it.

He glances around one more time in the doorway - thinking about Bill's smile and whether he should try and get the man switched onto his Glamnation staff - when he sees Bill take a blanket out of the boot and go around to throw it over Kris's sleeping form.

The guard hesitates when he sees Adam watching. "He likes the warmth," he explains, in a low voice that nevertheless carries across the front lawn.

Adam remembers that he isn't supposed to care and pushes open his front door, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in the back of his mind that suggests a headache is on the way.

*

He leaves the house with a small bag slung over one shoulder and is relieved to see a different car sitting on the road outside, with Bill and Kris having vanished off somewhere. Adam pulls open the door and drops inside, tugging Bill's phone out of his pocket. He's supposed to be - what day is it - he was supposed to be in a hotel in San Francisco last night and then today was going to be a nice leisurely drive down to LA. He would've been dropped off at home in the afternoon, interviews in the evening and an early night in his own bed for a change.

He calls Lane from the back of the car. "It's Adam -" he starts, and then has to put the phone down on the seat for ten minutes so he doesn't get deafened while she shouts at him.

By the time she's calmed down enough to say, " _Are you even listening to me?_ " Adam has instructed the driver to take him to the nearest shitty bar.

He picks up the phone again, holding it tentatively an inch away from his eardrums. "I'm in LA," he says.

"No shit, Sherlock. I found that out _two hours ago_ when Bill put in a call on the radio for a driver to go to the Lambert residence to pick up Adam Lambert. The eight hours before that - from you stumbling off stage looking like you might faint to me getting a call from my friend at Jive to ask if I knew why you were home nearly twelve hours early - I had no idea where you were. I had everyone looking, the police were on red alert, and I think I fired half your fucking security before someone pointed out that Kris was also gone and you might be with him somewhere." Her voice - if anything - gets colder at this. "So, were you with Kris?"

Adam swallows. "I - maybe."

"You're going to tell me sooner or later, Adam. We may as well get it out of the way now. First: Did you fuck him? Second: How much is he suing you for? Third: How big a raise am I getting for soothing this over?"

Adam leans his head against the slightly cooler glass of the window and reaches into a side pocket of his bag for his Ibuprofen before remembering the industrial strength tablets are on the bus with all his other stuff. "We kissed," he says, wondering if the ground could just open up and swallow him right now. "I - we didn't go any further. He fell asleep on me." He remembers now, Kris nuzzling his neck and pushing at the collar of his shirt, falling sleep against Adam's shoulder as though it was the natural place to go from there. He remembers sitting with a hard on for at least twenty minute while Kris shifted against him, every move pressing new muscles and soft skin against Adam's chest until Adam came all over his fucking pants.

There is a long silence on the other end of the line. "I swear to God, Adam, you have the weirdest fucking stories of anyone I have ever met - and that is _saying something._ "

Adam finds some Tylenol in the bottom of the bag and the driver wordlessly passes him a bottle of water. He breaks the seal and swallows both, balancing the phone against his shoulder. "I don't think he'll sue me. He's not like that and if he does - I did save his life that one time."

"Hah," says Lane. "You bonded with a guy who is exactly your type to 'save his life' and then took advantage of him."

"I didn't take - he was totally up for it!"

"Hah. Like that'll matter to the courts." She pauses. "Maybe we could say he took advantage of you. I bet I could convince a jury of my peers that he threw himself in front of the van in order to force you to save him."

Adam pauses to let this sink in. "I never want to meet your peers. He hadn't woken up when I left, he probably won't sue and I have no idea how much I pay you - you'll have to take that up with 19. Can you just - I need a hotel for the next few nights."

"Adam... are you _hiding_ from him?"

Tylenol is _not_ enough for this. Somewhere Kris is waking up and every cell in Adam's body wishes it were back in the car waking up with him. Waking Kris up with soft kisses, starting on his shoulder and working his way slowly along to the side of his neck. Up his neck to his jaw - that jaw - curved around up to his ears, bare and free of piercings the way Adam doesn't normally like except on Kris it's so -

Not that one would hurt. One silver stud slipped through Kris's soft, wholesome skin and Adam can almost taste in on his tongue as he leans back in the seat and his hand - Kris's hand - snakes down to cup the bulge in his clean jeans which aren't going to stay clean for long.

"-So if you just come into the offices then... Adam? Adam? Get your hands off your cock while I'm talking to you!"

Kris is waking up, Adam knows that and knows he shouldn't know that, he should push the connection away and fight and Kris's mind is all bleary from sleep but he seems to be smiling. " _Adam_ ," he's going to say, and Adam can almost hear it in his ear. He thinks about Kris's hair, running his fingers through it as Kris makes short work of the buttons on his jeans.

"I'll quit. I swear to god, I'll quit."

He should stop. He should really, _really_ stop but he's so close and Kris is waking up hard, all soft and pliable like he isn't really awake enough to get what Adam's doing and it isn't sex. It isn't sex, not really, because Kris's hand is on Kris's cock and Adam's is reaching into his boxers - the driver throws a box of Kleenex at his head - and it's not sex. It's just imagining Kris resting in his lap, leaning upwards to press their lips together, tasting the familiar curve of Kris's mouth, touching his tongue to the back of Kris's teeth.

Lane hangs up with a click, Adam realizes he's still holding the phone and drops it on the seat.

It's so hard to believe he's kissed Kris so little. He knows the exact shape of his bond's mouth so much better than Drake's or Brad's or any of the others he tasted a thousand times. He knows when he moves away Kris will make that low noise at the back of his throat that means 'No _, come back, not finished yet._ '

"Kris," he whispers desperately and for the first time Kris hesitates, his mind sharpens suddenly as though he's just been jerked wide awake.

"Adam," he breathes. "Shit -" then he's coming and Adam is right behind him and for a moment they're one person.

Then Kris slams whatever mental barriers come between them down, and Adam is alone. He wants - he _needs_ a cold shower and the hideous smell of hotel soap as though that will go any way towards washing the guilt away. "Fuck," he says, his voice unexpectedly small.

"Don't worry," the driver says. "I've had worse back there."

Adam lets his head fall back against the window and wishes he could just give his life to Kris so he could die and Kris could be fine and he could stop fucking up everything all the time. "Can we find a motel or something? I need a shower."

"Of course, sir."

*

He doesn't kiss Tommy at either of the Costa Mesa shows. He tries, but Kris is too close or too silent or too _something_ because just leaning in sends stabbing pains through his head so he has to turn it into a push away and a laugh, teasing the audience who go wild at the time but when a kiss doesn't come later there is complaining on all the blogs and the reviews say 'Lambert _raises the roof but leaves the fans hanging_.'

Brad visits him at the motel, sitting on the shitty bed looking at the glorious view of an alley filled with garbage and vomit. "Did you know he has nightmares?" he asks, flicking through the ten channels until he finds an old episode of Idol. "I stayed a couple of nights - nothing seems to stop them short of waking him up."

Adam has been trying to sleep as much as he can - wasting all his time off with his eyes shut in a darkened room as though wanting to fall asleep will be enough to send him drifting off - in the hope that Kris will need to sleep less and have less nightmares and maybe Adam will be able to fix this one tiny thing. "He died. That would give anyone nightmares."

Brad nods as though he knows everything that Adam isn't saying and changes the subject. "Are you looking forward to going home?"

For a second Adam wants to say that it's not home because he doesn't really know the house and he's barely lived that and it only feels like home because Kris is there and he's not going back as long as Kris is there so it doesn't -

Then he realizes Brad is holding his itinerary and is talking about playing a show in San Diego. "I guess," Adam says, which is halfway between his paparazzi answer: 'Of _course I love San_ Diego' and the truth: 'My _home is LA, the best thing I got in San Diego was out_.'

"He doesn't hate you," Brad says. "You saved his life, remember?"

Adam closes his eyes and doesn't reply.

*

He has dinner with his mom - some fancy LA restaurant that Lane booked and he didn't want to go but she swore if he didn't she would tell Leila about Kris and Adam could _not_ face that conversation, so he went and he ordered a salad to give him something to poke at with his fork while he didn't look her in the eyes.

Adam didn't lie to his mother. Sometimes he concealed things and sometimes he didn't mention something he knew she'd want to hear but he never looked into her face and lied.

"So are you seeing anybody?" she asks, cutting up her steak which looks delicious but Adam still has to lose all this fucking _weight_ if he wants anyone to take him seriously, if he wants to be able to look at himself in all the photos that seem to show up everywhere. "Is there a special someone?"

Adam spears a tomato and wishes it was an entire three tier chocolate cake like they used to have on birthdays. He wishes it was thick sponge and chocolate frosting covered in chocolate shavings and sprinkles.

He puts it into his mouth and it just tastes like an overripe tomato, the unpleasant texture of the seeds and the too-thick skin filling his mouth. "No," he says to his lettuce. "There's no one."

"It's a shame about Drake," she says. "He was such a good boy, I liked him."

"So did I," Adam says, and reminds himself that he's not allowed to cry about this in front of his mother. "So what did you think of the show?" he says, and she is distracted by telling him how amazing he is and how good he looks on stage for the rest of the meal.

Adam rolls his second tomato around his plate and doesn't order dessert.

*

It's about time he left. Leaving is good, even. The crowd in San Diego go wild and Adam manages to give Tommy a quick peck on the cheek then pretends to be dancing as he misses the next few lines to push the headache away and pull back into himself. He goes out to sign autographs afterwards and for a while he feels normal.

Tempe is crazy, it's further from Kris, so the itching is worse and the headache is worse but there is nothing pressing against his mind as though if he just opened up a little he could be having psychic sex right here right now, and the crowd roars every time he so much as takes a step.

He grabs Tommy's hair and pulls him in, licking into his mouth and keeping them pressed together at least three times as long as normal. Tommy is laughing when they move away and Adam has to duck off stage between songs to take more Tylenol but the girls he meets after the show go on and on about how amazing he is. A blonde boy hangs around while everyone else vanishes. There's glitter on his eyelids and rhinestones on his ears, but he blushes when Adam traces the curve of his cheek.

"Did you come on your own?" Adam asks.

The boy reaches out slowly - as though he's not sure if he's allowed - and traces the color on Adam's lip. "I don't - no one knows about - I can't -" and Adam has to kiss him, just to see. It's chaste, hesitant, and the boy is oh-so-pretty.

*

Adam bites his own tongue when he comes so he doesn't cry Kris's name.

*

Afterwards, Adam signs the boy's CD and kisses him on the cheek. "Tell them," he says.

The boy smiles a small, shy smile. "Thank you," he says, reaching up to pull Adam into a hug. Adam lets himself be drawn in, suddenly wondering if maybe this was all the boy wanted and if he -

He hasn't been hugged like this in a long time, hair ticking his ear and the boy still smiling when he moves away. "Don't worry," he says, his voice surprisingly clear when he knows what he's saying. "I won't tell anyone."

Adam doesn't steal him, sneak him onto the bus and keep him forever to hug and not judge and know exactly what Adam wants without needing to ask. He does think about it, but the boy is already walking away, raising one hand in farewell.

Adam texts Drake that night - for the first time in a long while. He doesn't get a reply until next morning.

 _'With Brody now - gon xclusiv, sory! Can stll b Friends?'_

Adam falls back on his bed and closes his eyes.

He wishes he knew the boy's name.

*

Cassidy calls an hour before Adam is due to go on in Lubbock. "I need you to talk to Lane," he says, not bothering with a 'Hello _, how are you, fucked any fans lately?_ '

Adam places the eyeliner pencil down before he is overcome by any urges to stab something with it. "What have TMZ got now?" he asks, thinking of the boy's innocent face and his soft-voiced promise. He could have been a spy, a plant, a mole, anything and Adam wishes he didn't have to know. He wishes he could live in a fantasy world where everyone knows exactly what they're getting into, is happy with it, and doesn't tattle afterwards.

"TMZ?" Cass says. Adam breathes a small sigh of relief and reaches for the pencil. "Haven't looked in a while - ooh, I wonder if there's anything sordid. No, I need you to find Lane and tell her to stop being such a stuck up bitch and let Kris play his gig."

Adam freezes, the eye liner an inch away from his eye. "Kris has a gig?" He vaguely recalls that Kris plays guitar; in all of his fantasies Kris's fingers are rough and once Adam had a dream where Kris made chords against his arm, playing Adam's sensitive spots like an instrument.

"Well he doesn't if your fucking PA keeps up this whole 'can't be seen in public' shit she has got going. Bill can sneak him out of the house, we'll go in a discrete car by a roundabout route and everyone will see the amazing sexiness that is Kris Allen in concert."

Adam tries to remember if he's ever heard Kris play, or ever seen Kris be particularly sexy outside of either Adam's fantasies or actual sex. "I don't know," he says. "I mean, what if he's just trying to cash in on -" He bites his lip before he can say 'my publicity' because it makes him feel like a total asshole suspecting Kris like that, and he doesn't want to be that guy who jumps at every shadow and sees conspiracies round every corner.

Cassidy laughs. "Oh, honey, he could not be more different from you if he tried and you are _not_ letting him turn this down. It's the fucking Viper Rooms, Adam. Do you have any idea how often a chance like this drops into a guy's lap? Never. That is how often. Never in a million years. If you don't call Lane, I will have to put naked photos of you online and we all know how that will go."

"In the roaring inferno that is the end of my career?" Adam says, leaning forward to do his eyeliner, running it around his eye with the ease of long practice. "Fine, I'll talk to her."

"Great," Cassidy says. "I would hate to have to call the drummer I hired and tell him we had to cancel."

"You hired a drummer?"

"Technically, you hired a drummer. At least, it was your credit card. He has a friend who's coming down to play guitar, I can just about get through the songs Kris wants to do on bass. Also, I found a couple of hundred blank CDs in your box room and we burned Kris's EP on them to sell."

Adam stops artfully smudging his eyeliner for a moment. "Kris has an EP?" It sounds more like Cassidy's new backing band to Adam, particularly since Cass is presumably doing the vocals.

"I'll send it to you sometime," Cass says, in the tones of what who has already been distracted by a million shiny new things. "If Lane says no, we're sneaking out and going anyway - just so you know."

"Great, now you're making me complicit in your criminal activities."

"The only crime," Cass says seriously, "Is trying to keep Kris from the world."

Adam laughs. "If you say so. Enjoy your gig." He hangs up and finishes his make up before going to find Lane who objects vehemently until Adam points out that if she says no they'll do it anyway and she won't get a chance to examine every tiny aspect of the plan for possible security leaks.

When he leaves to go on stage she's on the phone to Bill talking about hiring a suitably battered van for equipment.

Adam thinks about Kris's fingers all night.

*

He's waiting for the right moment to phone Kris, that's all it is. He's not going to ignore Kris for the rest of Glamnation, that would be excessive, he's just waiting for that _moment_ when he's happy and Kris's sarcastic comments will make him laugh rather than send him spiralling further into a pit of 'Oh _God oh God how did this happen?_ '

The moment doesn't come. He lies sleepless in his bunk as they get further and further from LA, further from Kris, further from any chance of fixing everything Adam has done wrong. The headache gets worse - he visits a doctor, doesn't mention the bond and gets a prescription for migraine medication.

In the end, he cops out. There's a set of scales in the dressing room at one of the shows and Adam weighs himself because he can't remember the last time he ate and surely that means - but he's heavier, he always is.

 _'stop eatin so much,'_ he texts to Kris's cell. _'ur makin me fat :)xx'_

He sends it before going on in Springfield and spends the whole show darting offstage between every number to check for replies. He lies awake all night, pressing random buttons every few seconds to make sure it doesn't go dark - sometimes he misses it when it rings and he can't afford to fall asleep.

He's glued to his phone the whole next day, holding it in one hand through sound check and missing the microphone with half his notes because he's trying to see the screen. As soon as it's over, he flees to his dressing room and texts Cassidy. 'Do _u no y K is ignoring me?'_

Unlike Kris, Cassidy replies within five minutes. _'Nope - will text him.'_ It's infuriatingly vague and Adam almost throws his phone across the room but doesn't because he still has to sit and watch it until Tommy comes to the door and tells him that they kind of have to perform at some point that evening.

When Adam stumbles off stage after his encore, he snatches his phone off an amp and checks it. There is a long rambling message from Cassidy that he ignores, but nothing from Kris. He kicks his way onto the bus and drops into his bunk, opening Cass's message to kill time more than anything.

 _'Went 2 ur house, found him asleep in the rec. Studio. Looks like shit, A. Got him in2 bed with soup, cant hang around tho - music vid 2 film. U want me 2 ask Brad? XxC'_

He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the reply button, and then decides to wait just a couple more hours in case Kris texts back and then maybe he'll say everything's okay between them and Adam will be able to call him - possibly right after a cold shower - and they'll work something out whereby they stay apart from each other but Kris doesn't necessarily hate Adam's guts all the time.

He's falling asleep, lost in fuzzy thoughts of a world where Kris didn't almost die and somehow they became actual friends so Adam could ignore his crush in favor of some kind of epic bromance when his phone buzzes in his hand. He hits a button, typing in his pin code so fast he gets it wrong twice before he can even open Kris's message.

'stop _kissing so much,'_ Kris says. _'ur making me cry'_

Adam stares at it for a long time.

The next day he sends Kris a bottle of migraine pills, dropping one of Tommy's special _Adam Lambert_ guitar picks in so Kris will know who it's from.

He doesn't text again.

*

They drive further and further from LA. Kissing Tommy gets better at the beginning, then starts going downhill. Adam decides this means he needs more practice and starts kissing him more on stage, pushing him around more, holding him more.

Tommy goes with it, the fans go wild, Brad texts Adam to ask how to make chicken soup and if he can call Kris's mother out to LA. Adam itches more than ever, his throat kills, he has to give up talking and drinking anything but Theraflu. He sings one song at sound check and increases the backing vocals in his live show to disguise the fact that he's missing notes and stumbling across the stage.

He also increases the amount of migraine pills he takes. On the upside, sleeping gets a whole lot easier. His dreams are full of shadowy faces and dancing lights, fingers brushing against his skin and a figure who steps back every time Adam steps forward, lingering eternally just out of reach.

Thinking about Kris hurts. Adam tries to jerk off but all he can think of is how far away Kris is, across the whole fucking country. He gets a text from Brad that said 'I _'_ m _worried about K, dnt think hes coping well. Ur 2 far away_ , _'_ and he can't reply because all he wants to do is text back 'Yes _, yes I'm too far. I'm catching a plane, I'm coming home.'_

Only he can't say that because they're not - they don't _do_ that and if Kris was close Adam wouldn't be able to resist anymore and his head burns and he falls sideways and lies on the floor until Tommy comes in and looks down at him.

"You're fucked, dude."

Adam closes his eyes and tries not to think about how easy it would be to get on a plane and fly to LA. He tries to think about the millions of fans who are counting on him and how this tour is everything he's been dreaming of since he was five years old. "I don't know what to do," he says, voice hoarse from lack of use.

Tommy sits down - just about squashing into the tiny onboard bathroom - and brushes his fingers through Adam's hair. "Do you need me to talk to Lane?"

Adam closes his eyes and tries not to remember Lane looking at him over her iPhone and telling him to let Kris die. "No," he says. "She's not allowed to know." If Lane thinks everything is okay, as long as she believes it, no one will touch Kris and Adam can keep pretending it's just the stress of a major tour that's fucking up everything that used to be good about him.

Tommy sighs. "You can't go on like this, Adam." He tugs Adam's head lightly into his lap, his fingers brushing through his hair and it's nice but Adam find himself wishing more than anything that Tommy was Kris.

Not for the sex, though that would be good. Not to stop the headache and the itching and the desire to just lie here and never lift his head again.

It would be right, if Kris was here. He would make some dry comment and his fingers would be rougher and Adam wouldn't care at all.

"You know you can tell me anything," Tommy says. "If you're on something, if you're hiding something. I mean - I'm not saying I could do anything but I won't judge you and I won't end your career. I know you're not okay, and it's alright if you don't want to tell me but I just wanted you to know that I'm here. If you need me."

Adam reaches up to close his fingers on Tommy's wrist. He's not supposed to tell anyone, he knows, and Brad and Cass were special because Kris needed _someone_. Adam hadn't even considered that maybe he needed someone. "I have a bond," he says, burying his face in Tommy's knees so he doesn't have to see more judgement.

Tommy's hands don't so much as pause. "How long?" he asks.

Adam closes his eyes and tries to remember what day it is and where they are more precisely than a fucking long way from LA, far enough to stretch the bond almost to breaking point. New York. They're back in New York and he hasn't so much as spoken to Kris in so long it hurts. "Three months," he whispers, falling sideways to stare at the ceiling. There's mold growing across the surface that wasn't there when Glamnation started.

Staten Island, he remembers. Staten Island in New York, which is oh-so far from home. "Three months and a day."

Tommy has calloused fingers as well. If asked, he'd probably play bass lines into Adam's skin. He would tilt his head back when Adam kissed him and he'd let Adam blow him, which might help for a little while.

Just thinking about it makes Adam's head hurt again and he whimpers, reaching up to press cool fingers to his skin as though that might work where modern medicine has failed. He pushes at the Kris part of his mind with everything he has, looking for a 'Comehome' or a cry from LA that might mean going home was acceptable.

Tommy sits patiently while Adam explains - in stops and starts - the whole story from seeing the small, broken form on the hospital bed to Kris lying on the back seat of Adam's car, so peaceful and unharmed that it's easy to forget how much the world has broken him.

Tommy leans down and presses a kiss to his temple. "You're a bit of an idiot," he says, catching his fingers in the chains of Adam's necklaces. "Do you need me to drive you to the airport?"

Adam isn't going to go, he can't make this happen and he won't be able to resist so he has to just stay away and stick to the original plan. He's going to be strong and he isn't going to go and -

"Yes," he says. "I do."

*

Tommy drives him to the airport, pushes his passport into his hand and pays for his ticket. He feeds Adam one more migraine pill, enough to keep him standing, but doesn't give him the bottle even when Adam paws feebly at his empty hand. "It hurts, you have no idea -"

Tommy kisses him on the cheek and tugs a hat down over Adam's distinctive hair. "Call him," he suggests, giving Adam a light push in the direction of security.

Ten minutes later Adam is short a bottle of liquid eyeliner, a pair of nail clippers and has signed autographs for the entire airport security team but he also has a slightly private nook in the airport to call Kris's cell.

"Kris," he blurts, the moment it picks up. "I'm coming - that is - I can be home, if you want me -"

"He's asleep," Brad says. "However fast you think you're coming, make it faster."

Adam looks over at the departure boards. There's a flight to LA boarding right now.

He plays the diva as avidly as any role on Broadway, shouting and stomping his feet until the airport staff are so desperate to please that there is a clearly audible sigh of relief when he deigns to accept the one free seat in economy on the plane which has to be radioed and told to reopen its doors so Adam can climb on board.

He's at the back of the plane, a young woman on one side and a boy in Skullcandy headphones on the other. The woman gives him sidelong looks the whole flight and when they land says. "Aren't you that singer from that show? Danny something?"

Adam looks at her. "Do you have painkillers?"

She gives him half a pack of Tylenol and he scrawls Danny's name across her rucksack. On the one hand, it makes him die of shame; but on the other he manages to stumble off the plane and through security to see Bill waiting at the barrier on the other side.

He has a sign that says _'Mrs. Allen,'_ which was probably Brad's joke but Adam doesn't really care, he just stumbles out after him and falls in the back of the car.

"I know you're worried about him," Bill says.

Adam closes his eyes so the roof of the car stops spinning. "He never said yes," he says, thinking of Kris's face and wondering in one tiny part of his mind if he should say turn around, turn around right now.

One tiny part. The rest is focused on how every turn is bringing Kris closer, bringing Adam closer to kissing those lips, to pulling off that shirt, to finally - _finally -_ undoing the too loose jeans and touching, tasting.

"You never asked," Bill murmurs and clearly what he means is _'You need to give him a chance to say no'_ and Adam - Adam can remember that because what Kris wants matters. Adam wants to give him what he wants, make him happy, hold him so close and never let him go.

"I'm going to need - lube, condoms -" He checks the tan jacket that Tommy has thrown over his Glamnation waistcoat. "I don't have any money. Fuck, I don't -"

Bill reaches into a compartment in the dashboard and pulls out a scrap of paper, passing it back over his shoulder. Adam takes it and reads it slowly as each letter wiggles and blurs before his eyes. It's a sex shop coupon for - whatever he wants, apparently. He didn't even know sex shops had coupons.

"How did you get this?" Adam demands.

"Kris was given it back in June, sir. At a Bond clinic. I believe he was told to have more sex."

"He didn't tell me -"

"No," Bill pulls up outside a seedy shithole of a sex shop. "I imagine he thought you were a tad busy with your major tour."

Adam stares at him for a moment, the irrational side of his brain wanting to shout that Kris is his _bond_ and he could never be too busy. "I didn't - oh, fuck it." He pushes out of the car and into the shop, snatching half the supply of lube and condoms. He also grabs a dildo and a few pairs of fluffy handcuffs because unlimited sex shop vouchers don't come along every day.

He throws the coupon in the shop assistant's face and drops back into the car. "Just get me home."

Bill raises his eyebrows but makes no comment other than a low, "Yes, sir."

*

Adam half runs down his driveway; his pants are too tight for a real sprint but his heart is racing at a thousand beats per minute, his hands are sweating and all he can think is 'Soon _soon soon_.' He can feel Kris now, feel him rolling out of bed and rubbing his eyes.

He stumbles - his feet moving too fast for his body to keep up, and almost trips onto the front step as Kris walks downstairs.

The door is locked. Adam presses his fingers against the wood as though force of will and desperation will be enough to get him inside. His body strains forward - _so close so close so close_ \- and for an instant he almost believes that the door will melt away and there will be no more obstacles.

It takes Kris stumbling over the bottom step for Adam's mind to clear enough that he thinks to press the doorbell. The intercom buzzes for a moment then Adam stands still, trembling and breathing heavily and waiting.

"You came back."

Kris doesn't introduce himself, neither does Adam. They've never needed to - Adam could tell from a thousand miles away if Kris is the one on the other end of the line. It's just another of those things that they ignored in case the impossible happened and everything went away.

Kris's voice is - Adam had almost forgotten the way a Southern drawl sounds from that mouth, though he hasn't forgotten the taste of Kris's tongue. He closes his eyes for a moment trying not to think of Kris's tongue and how close it is and all the things it could do and how all Adam wants to do is taste it again.

He leans his head against the wooden door and feels Kris lean against it on the other side, separated by such a thin layer. One last obstacle. "I just flew in." He traces the grain of the door as though he can feel Kris through it, touch his skin.

"I thought you had a show tonight." Kris turns to lean back against the door - and no, Adam has no idea how he knows that but he does know that Kris's sigh is one of exhaustion and regret and more than anything Adam wants to reach through the door and rub all the tension out of those shoulders. Adam wants to pull him close and kiss him until he can't think anymore and everything melts away.

"I can't do it," Adam says, his voice slightly hoarse as he thinks about Kris pressed flush against him, his hands tracing down to Kris's thighs. Thinks of bare skin, reddened lips, expensive sheets.

Kris swallows, sitting down on the floor and Adam clenches his fists to fight the urge to grab at the doorframe and shake it, demanding why Kris won't just stand up and let him in, damn it. "You've come a long way for moral support, Glambert. Go on, get on that stage, I believe in you, you're so amazing."

"I meant -" Suddenly it's good that there's wood between them because Adam has to let Kris say no, he has to do this as properly as possible. "Cold turkey. I can't - I thought I could. I thought if I buried myself in my work and took enough painkillers; I thought if I slept with enough people I could make this go away and you'd be alive and everything would be alright and it wouldn't matter that - that I couldn't look at you without wanting to kiss you because we'd just be friends or acquaintances or we wouldn't even know each other and I would never have to resist."

He glances sideways at the intercom to check that the red light is still on because he can't hear anything from Kris. "But I can't. It hurts too much and every time I so much as touch someone I feel so guilty as though I'm cheating on you and I know you'll be jealous and I _hate_ that I make you feel that way because I want to hunt down everyone who hurts you and make them pay and I'm tired of fighting everything I feel."

If he listens really closely, he can just about hear Kris's breathing.

"So cold turkey doesn't work. For me, it doesn't work for me and I can - if you want me to go I'll go. I'll find a clinic where they can make the feelings stop or I'll just grin and bear it until our dying day. I'll go to Europe, I'll get locked up somewhere, I'll stay away from you and we can live separate lives for as long as we both last." Adam takes a deep breath. "But if you open the door we can - I won't be able to stop. It hurts too much and I just want it to go away no matter what that takes and you're so fucking perfect sometimes I can't breathe. I want to hold you and kiss you and do whatever it takes to deserve you. I want to mark you all over so no one else can touch you and I want to be able to say I'm taken when someone tries to come near me.

"I want to fuck you," Adam says, because he has to be honest now or he never will be. "I want to make you scream my name. I want to make you more mine than you were ever hers." Adam closes his eyes, presses his hands against the wood. "So you don't have to let me in. If you're fine, if you're doing great, if you'd rather stay as we are - " He bites fiercely back on the tears that are threatening to spill out. "I can go."

Adam waits, taking a step back from the door so that he doesn't fall inside if it opens, and waits until he is blinking back tears and wiping his nose on the back of his hand. He doesn't know how long to wait, but surely if Kris was in the same state as him the door would already be open. Adam had crossed a whole fucking country out of desperation; surely Kris would open the door.

There is a click as Kris hangs up the intercom phone. That's as good an answer as any.

Adam swallows, takes a deep breath and doesn't cry before turning and taking slow, painful steps off the porch and back onto the drive.

The door opens behind him and he turns to see Kris standing in the doorway, wearing Adam's old blue T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips. There are too many shadows beneath his eyes and he looks horribly thin, leaning on the door to hold himself upright.

"I'm in the same bond you are," Kris says.

Adam isn't aware of moving, he seems to blink and then Kris is right there in front of him where Adam can reach out and touch one finger to Kris's cheek.

He almost comes right there in his clothes on the porch from that single point of contact. Kris is looking up at him and his skin is soft and Adam's fingertip isn't burning - he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to not be in constant pain but as he curves his hand around Kris's jaw the burn fades across his whole palm and Kris make a tiny desperate sound in the back of his throat.

It's coming home after years away to a house all lit up and warm, smelling of fresh cookies, cut grass and the costume chest Adam loved. It's every tiny ache and pain washing away; replaced with _yes, this one, now._ It's a kiss, a touch, slow fucking all night long and Kris's warm brown eyes, eyelashes flickering as he leans closer.

Then Adam is pressing him against the doorframe, using his second hand to tug Kris closer and his first to tilt Kris's head until Adam can lean in and catch his lips. They're just how they should be, just how Adam remembers, soft and slightly damp and parting easily at Adam's touch as Kris seems to relax against him. His eyelids flicker shut as Adam flicks his tongue out, tracing the shape of Kris's mouth beneath his. He takes his time, memorizing the exact curves and patterns just in case this is his last chance - not that it will be because Kris is his and he's Kris's and they have all the time in the world.

Kris touches his hands lightly against Adam's hips, the ghost of a touch sending all the blood in Adam's body rushing south faster than any other guy Adam has ever been with. His tongue presses against Adam's, then into Adam's mouth and Adam lets him taste and explore while he runs a hand across his side to map out his ribs and his abs.

He wants to memorize the feel then the sight then the taste of every inch of Kris's perfect, beautiful body. He wants to suck him and fuck him and wake up with Kris curled close against him.

It's almost a surprise, how much he wants the latter. Enough that Adam breaks the kiss to breathe and step over the threshold, turning Kris slightly so he can close the door then press Kris up against it.

He slides his thigh between Kris's legs and - fuck - Kris is every bit as hard as he is. He wants to taste and explore but he's not going to last five minutes and Kris is desperate enough that he's not going to last three.

Adam strokes his fingers across Kris's stomach, up under the T-shirt, feeling the soft hairs on his skin and the way Kris trembles when Adam's rings brush his bare chest. "Can I?" Adam asks, dropping his fingers slightly lower, sliding them very slightly under the waistband.

Kris has his eyes closed, his head tilted back against the door as he reaches out to push the hideous tan jacket off Adam's shoulders. "Whatever you want," he says. "Whatever you want."

Adam wants forever, lazy mornings and Sunday afternoons. He wants walks in the park and waking up tangled together. He wants a thousand tiny normal moments that he can treasure up because the normal moments are the most important things.

More pressingly, he wants his fingers around Kris's cock and he gets that because sweatpants are a genius idea that make it so easy and Kris's head is still tilted back so Adam leans in to graze his teeth across Kris's throat, across the veins and the stretched skin enjoying the hitches of breath, the low moans that he elicits and the cry of " _Adam_ ," as Kris comes over Adam's hand.

Adam curls his other hand in Kris's hair to lift his head so Kris is watching when Adam raises his covered hand and licks his fingers one by one, sliding them in and out between his lips until Kris half-snarls and pulls him down into another kiss, sucking and licking even as his other hand tugged at the ridiculously complicated fastenings on Adam's way-too-tight pants.

Adam reaches down to help him and their fingers entwine together, Kris's guitar calluses pressed against Adam's regularly moisturised hands.

Kris laughs, a rough sound scraped over sand and glass but still a laugh. "I'm having a hard time figuring out if this is disgustingly hot or sickeningly cute."

Adam finally manages to break the zip. "Can it be both?"

Kris drops to his knees which Adam was not expecting in the slightest and he isn't at all prepared for the soft brush of Kris's lips and he comes instantly which would be embarrassing but Kris just laughs again and kisses the inside of his thighs anyway. "You're not fat," he says.

Adam is more than a little in love with him as he stands up and presses his fingers into the fat on Adam's stomach that he really has to lose because he looks terrible but oh god it feels so good when Kris presses his fingers against Adam's skin one by one and then in patterns like -

"You play piano," he whispers, his mind suddenly full of images of Kris's fingers dancing on piano keys, Kris's eyes closed as he rocks slightly on the piano stool and his fingers pick out patterns. It's better than any porn Adam has seen.

Kris leans into his ear and hums Mozart in time with the fingers against Adam's skin. His lips are brushing like insect wings against Adam's ear and his body moves against Adam's in time with the music.

"We're going upstairs," Adam says because he needs a bed, needs Kris naked and laid out before him. "Need to see you, touch you, taste you."

Kris stops humming but doesn't stop breathing against Adam's ear. "I also play the viola," he says, managing to make viola into the dirtiest word imaginable and now Adam is seeing his fingers pressed against the thin neck, the bow arching back and forth in his hand.

Adam wraps his arms around Kris's back, hoisting him up into his arms. Kris is heavy, but Adam feels like he could lift fucking mountains right now and it's worth every tiny strain on his back for the moment when Kris reaches out to lace his fingers together around the back of Adam's neck. "I feel like your blushing bride on our honeymoon." He smiles and reaches up to kiss the underside of Adam's chin. "Or maybe this is our wedding night. Only - oh - a handful of months too late."

"I swear to god, Kris, you keep this up and I'm going to fuck you right into next week." He kicks open Kris's bedroom door because it's closer and the bed is already made. Well, made and then ruined completely judging by the twisted sheets and duvet half on the floor, but everything will probably need burning after Adam is done so maybe it's better this way.

Kris smiles as Adam lays him back on the bed. "As long as you're still here next week," he says, and then reaches out to pull Adam down on top of him.


	5. Chapter 5

They fall asleep around midmorning in a tangle of limbs and exhaustion. Kris wakes briefly at noon, long enough to shift slightly and feel Adam's arm tighten around him, and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

It's dark outside when he wakes up again. Kris reaches a hand to touch the other hand of the bed but it's cold, as though Adam has been gone for a while. Kris closes his eyes fiercely and doesn't think about waking up in the back of Bill's car with Adam's make-up smeared on his skin, Adam's kisses still a warm memory on his mouth but Adam himself nowhere to be seen.

Kris reaches down to tug the sheets up over himself. He knows he must be imagining it, but Adam's tattoo seems darker than ever before against his skin.

His hand is halfway to the migraine pills on the bedside table, before he realizes he doesn't need them anymore. His head feels fine - in a way he can't even remember it feeling. The complete lack of pain in his body is alien, unfamiliar. Even his ass which was aching in the best possible way by the end has healed, unharmed. It gives a strange texture to his memories, as though maybe he just imagined it. If he wasn't lying on a California king with expensive (stained) sheets, he might imagine it had all been some kind of crazy coma dream.

He played Mozart's _Coronation_ and Beethovan's _Moonlight_ on Adam's bare skin, kissed every inch of his freckled shoulders, cried his name over and over. He remembers every hitch of Adam's breath, every whispered plea and desperate cry.

It wasn't a dream. Adam is still gone. Kris closes his eyes for a moment and rubs his arm, as though he can pull back Adam's warmth just from remembering it. He fingers trace the tattoo without even thinking, and he glances down. All the faint scratches around the black have faded back to normal skin, leaving no hint of the itching that almost caused him to claw his wrist open over the last weeks.

He gets out of bed slowly, thinking about going down to the studio - taking advantage of the brief respite from the pains - and wondering how long Adam is going to stay away this time. Another month, he supposes, and tries to remember where Adam will be by then. Outside of America, probably. Kris pushes that thought away, carefully not thinking that if it hurt this much when Adam was in New York, Japan might just kill both of them.

The t-shirt he was wearing has vanished - maybe Adam decided to steal his clothes back before he left. Kris pulls on a hoodie, clean boxers and jeans. He thinks he could go out today, Cass will probably have a hundred ideas the moment Kris broaches the idea of maybe hanging out.

He wonders if Cale's still in town. At one point Cale was living in Adam's mansion, but that's kind of where Kris's memories start to blur into each other and getting out of bed got a whole lot harder. He remembers Cale playing guitar while Kris recorded quiet, pleading vocals from the floor.

He'd only been planning to kill some time, do something to force him to get out of bed and actually move around, but listening to it back it had actually worked. It had gone on the EP, in the end.

Is Cale still in the house now? Kris pushes open the door to the room that used to be Katy's on his way past just in case, but the bed is unmade and there's nothing on any of the surfaces. Either Cale has left, or they set him up in a different room. That's probably something Kris should know. He makes a mental note to text someone as soon as he works out where Brad left his phone.

He doesn't really consider the fact that the mental connection between him and Adam is at an all time low - to the point that he can't tell what Adam's thinking or feeling or how far away he is - until he steps into the kitchen and sees Adam sitting at the table with his hands wrapped around an empty mug.

Kris hesitates in the doorway, wondering if he should leave; if Adam expected to be done with breakfast, out the house and back to New York before Kris woke up. "Do you want me to go?" Kris asks hesitantly, wondering if he can grab a coffee first.

Adam looks up at him and manages a weak smile. His make-up is smudged, he's wearing the blue T-shirt Kris stole and boxers, but Kris can't help noting his hair is perfect. Apparently there are some beauty routines you don't let slide. "Whatever you want," he says. "I'm not feeling any overwhelming urges to jump you right now."

Kris edges around the kitchen anyway, as much as he wants to sit in Adam's lap and feel those arms around him, those fingers on his skin, those lips -

He slams his mug under the machine with more force than is probably necessary. "Did you want a refill?" he asks Adam, programming in his favorite lazy morning coffee variation.

Adam slides his mug across the table in Kris's direction. "Please."

Kris carefully waits until Adam's hand is out of the way before he picks up the mug. It appears to have been decorated by a spectacularly bad hand with a drawing of something that is possibly a furry Frisbee, a skirt and a caption that says 'Beware _the Glambulge.'_

"Tommy made it," Adam says, with the careful politeness of 'I have no idea what the standard social conventions are for this situation.' "It's - I wore a kilt in Scotland. With a sporran. The Glambulge -"

"I can guess," Kris says, and carefully doesn't add 'I _had it in my ass last night_.' "What do you have? Just coffee?" Kris eyes the buttons for a moment, wondering how you get plain coffee from the machine.

"Um," Adam says. "Yeah, I think so. Probably."

Kris takes his mug out and glances around. "What does that mean? You don't know what you drink?"

"I... no?" Adam offers helplessly. "I just press the 'coffee' button and pray. I have absolutely no idea what that thing does or how it works."

Kris raises his eyebrows. "So this is how the other half lives," he says, turning back to the machine. Adam would probably like something sweet, he guessed. "Caramel Macchiato?" he asks, not waiting for an answer before pushing Adam's mug under the slot. "If you don't like it, I'd be happy to finish it for you."

He takes it out and crosses the room to pass it to Adam, not even thinking when Adam reaches out and his fingers brush Kris's as he takes it.

For a heartbeat, they meet each other's eyes and Adam's fingers rest on top of Kris's, the warmth of the coffee mug like a glue spreading out through Kris to Adam, holding their hands together so neither of them can pull away.

Adam lets out a low moan and snatches the mug, dropping it on the table before standing in one smooth movement and pulling Kris closer. "Can I - ?" he manages before their lips are pressing together again.

Kris imagines he must have terrible morning breath but then Adam tastes strongly of coffee and neither of them care at all. Adam's tongue licks through Kris's mouth, his hands already pushing the hoodie off Kris's shoulders and onto the floor.

Fifteen minutes later they're both naked, the kitchen is a whole lot less sanitary and Adam is licking his fingers with a faintly satisfied expression on his face. Kris rests his head on Adams shoulder and traces his fingers across Adam's stomach. "Yes," he says. "You can."

Adam goes still for a moment, then curves his arms around Kris to pull him closer, leaning in to drop a hesitant kiss on his cheek. "I may have lied about not feeling any overwhelming urges to jump you," he says.

Kris closes his eyes. "The kitchen isn't the most comfortable place. You didn't have to leave me to wake up alone." He feels the _again_ is implied.

Adam brushes his fingers carelessly up and down Kris's ribs. "I... I thought you might regret it," he admits. "I've never slept with someone without being sure it was what they wanted before, and I thought you might wake up and take one look at me and I was too much of a coward to let myself see the look in your eyes." He kisses the top of Kris's head. "I thought maybe you didn't want this."

Kris manages an awkward laugh and tugs away from Adam's arm, picking up his clothes and dressing slowly. "I'm in the same bond you are," he points out with a forced smile. "The overwhelming urge to jump your bones and make all the headaches and itching go away, I _own_ that." He picks up his mug because it gives him something to do with his hands and somewhere to look other than at Adam.

 _'I thought maybe you didn't want this.'_ The words echo in Kris's mind as he carefully doesn't watch Adam stand up and find a cloth in one of the cupboards to wipe his self down. He can't say _'I don't want this. I'm just too scared of dying,'_ because that would hurt Adam and he can't say 'Sometimes _I want it so much I can't breathe'_ because that's - he's not supposed to feel like that.

"I should take a shower," Adam says, waiting a moment longer than is really necessary - as though to give Kris the chance to accompany him.

Kris closes his hands tighter on the coffee mug and doesn't look at him. "Okay. Do you want pancakes?" because pancakes are normal and they make Kris think of Arkansas and learning to cook with his momma which is not something that goes hand in hand with sexy thoughts.

Adam deflates a little but nods. "Yeah," he says - stepping forward and dropping a kiss on Kris's cheek as though he suddenly needs to prove that he can. "Pancakes are good."

*

Cale is back in Arkansas. Kris finds his phone and calls between morning sex and pre-lunch sex, while he's lying on the bed occasionally scrawling lyrics on Adam's back where he can't read them.

 _I see you boy walking over here, can't look away._

 _I see you left a trail of broken hearts, on your way to me._

Adam had given him the Sharpie, and he shivers a little with every press of the pen, one of his hands curved behind him to rest on Kris's thigh while he talks to his management about how to soothe over the cancelled show and which flight he'll have to get tomorrow in order to get to Roanoke in time that they don't have to cancel any more.

Kris tries to focus on his own call, but all he can really gather is that Cale is fine, Arkansas is fine, Kris's parents think he should phone more and had to be strongly dissuaded from flying out to LA when they heard Kris was sick and Cale had to promise that Kris was planning to visit for Christmas instead.

When Cale hangs up, he almost calls Katy - scrolling through his phonebook for her number and one instant away from pressing the call button when he suddenly wonders how to begin. It's one thing being open minded and accepting that Adam is gay and also a nice guy, it's another thing entirely to accept that a guy you've known forever has had gay sex - a whole lot of gay sex - just to avoid a bit of pain.

Kris stares at his phone for a moment and wonders if gay sex to ease the pain of a bond is better or worse than bonding with a strange guy just because you're too scared of dying.

"Okay," Adam says. "Okay. Yes, I'm going on Twitter now. Well obviously not because I'm using my Blackberry. Yes, as soon as you hang up I promise. Another show on the 29th, fine. Look, I have to go. That's none of your business and he shouldn't have told you but yes. I'll deal with it." He squeezes Kris's leg tighter, glancing around and when he sees Kris placing his phone back on the bedside table he smiles and holds out an arm for Kris to curl up against him again.

Adam's just warm, that's all. Warm and cuddly and gay sex is nowhere near as weird as Kris always thought it would be. Well, it is strange, but more in the _'Oh God so amazing where have you been all my life?'_ way.

Kris figures that's just the bond talking, but he's not exactly complaining (And right now he's going to ignore all the snide voices in his head that say maybe he should be).

"No, for fuck's sake." His arm tightens on Kris's shoulders, almost painfully. "How many fucking times? I don't fucking care, Lane. No, I don't care what he thinks either."

Kris reaches up with one hand to tug the phone from Adam's hand. "I believe the sentiment Mr. Lambert is trying to convey runs along the lines of _'Fuck off and let me have sex.'_ "

Lane makes some noise and starts protesting about something, but Kris hangs up on her before he has to hear any of it and crawls into Adam's lap, kissing his jaw and his cheeks and his make up smeared eyelids.

Right now, he's going to ignore everything except the way it feels when Adam's fingers slide into him and pretend that nothing will ever have consequences.

*

Eventually Adam tweets, 'So _sorry about last night - emergency, had to fly back to LA to deal with it. Show moved to 29th, all tickets still valid. Love you all,'_ and sets the internet abuzz with what could possibly be so important that Adam Lambert would skip out on his first major label tour. A few camera photos fly around of him in LAX and there are urgent appeals to all his tweeting family members to check that they're okay.

Kris reads Adam's @replies while Adam orders Chinese. "What time are you flying out tomorrow?" he asks, pretending to be casual.

Adam hangs up the phone and sits down opposite, holding out a hand for his blackberry. "Morning," he says. "Lane wants me there in time for at least some semblance of sound check." He manages a small smile. "At least I'll be singing better now, no throat problems."

Kris wishes his hands were still full. "For, like, a week," he says, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "If that. Then it'll be back to medication, ThermiFlu and sleeping forever."

Adam pauses, looking up from his blackberry for the first time. "You -" he starts like a question, then cuts himself off, glancing down and back up again. "Would you come with me? If you could?"

Kris can't help snorting a little. "What, you'd just fly me out and walk me onto your tour bus with _'This is Kris Allen, he's my... ahem... private doctor'_? I bet Lane would love that, along with - you know - TMZ and Perez and every fangirl in the world ever."

Adam's expression darkens. "Okay," he says, before Kris can carry on. "Okay, it's a stupid idea. Maybe I can fly back next time I'm free if it's -"

"Yes," Kris says, his mouth once again bypassing all the clamoring voices in his head going _'No no no no no_. _'_

"Okay, yes it's stupid. I won't fly back, we'll keep ignoring it and it'll be -"

"No. I meant, 'Yes, I'll come on tour with you.'"

Adam's eyebrows rocket upwards and he drops his Blackberry in favor of reaching for Kris's hands. "Are you - are you sure?"

"Same bond you're in," Kris says, not quite able to meet the intensity of Adam's eyes. "Remember? Anyways," he adds, already sliding out of his seat. "We have all night to come up with my job description." He hesitates. "How long until the food comes?"

"Fifteen minutes," Adam says, reaching for Kris's waistband. "Enough time." He drops to his knees on the kitchen floor.

He calls Lane after dinner, locking himself in the study for half an hour. Kris leans against the other side of the door and listens to him shouting down the line.

When he comes out, it's official. Kris is joining Glamnation.

*

They aren't allowed to be seen together - this is Lane's one big condition for letting Kris come - which is why Kris is dropped off at the airport three hours before the flight so he can queue and pick up his tickets (Economy) while Bill drives back to the house, switches the Mondeo for the Mustang and picks up Adam, who will arrive all of fifteen minutes before the plane departs and be ushered quickly into the best first class seat on the plane.

Kris ends up squashed up next to a woman with a baby that would surely be adorable any time it wasn't spending bawling its eyes out, which excluded pretty much the entirety of the flight. Kris spent the journey alternating between wanting to die in his seat and wanting to fight his way past the flight attendants and into the first class cabin where Adam was presumably also sitting with his palms starting to itch and his cock twitching at every thought of how close they were.

It was so frustrating, and Kris thought it might just be him until he got off the plane and was allowed to turn his phone on and receive about a hundred texts from Adam - who apparently didn't understand the concept of 'please turn off your cell phones'.

 _'Should've gone twice this morning, starting to itch already. Is it this bad 4u? DDDDDD:'_

 _'Keep rubbing my side, flight attendants giving me funny looks. ;) '_

 _'Think they think I'm contagious. Quick, quarantine the rocker! :DD'_

 _'yru not txting!! Im feeling neglected, NEGLECTED! :'''''('_

 _'Kristopher...? Kriiiiistopher?'_

 _'Flight attendant promised me no 1 has died in economy. TEXT ME._ > _:|'_

 _'Going 2 go in2 the bathroom & think about ur lips wrapped around my cock. U wanna come up and blo me, bb?'_

 _'Im going 2 die sad and alone due to NEGLECT, Kristopher!!'_

 _'Are you okay?'_

 _'Kris?'_

Kris rolls his eyes and tries to pretend he's not blushing a little. _'So ur clingy and desperate once u start getting sum,'_ he texts. _'Some of us turn our phones off 4 flights.'_

The reply is pretty much instantaneous. _':DDDDDDDDD luv u 2, bb :)))) there was champagne in 1st, wanted 2 pour it ova ur chest & lick it off.'_

 _'It was the good stuff, btw. I refuse 2 drink anything 2nd rate :)'_

 _'Getting in the limo, Lane says 2 take a taxi 2 the venue & ur on the guest list.'_

 _'Ur shit at this txting back thing, BTW. Feels like im texting a BRICK WALL, Kris.'_

Kris has to ignore three more incoming texts to type his reply. _'Maybe if u let me get a word in edgeways? Heading for the taxis now, will cu l8er.'_

 _'I'll get Lane 2 buy some champage ;)'_

Kris rolls his eyes again, trying to act like he's not secretly a little bit thrilled that anyone regards him as worthy of this much attention. Adam's probably just bored as hell and has no other minions to text who will hang on his every word, but still.

Kris heads out the front and hails a cab.

*

Being on tour is not how Kris always imagined but fortunately by this time he's used to disappointment. Bonding isn't an expression of true and undying love, just a lot of sex and itchy palms. Playing one show in the coolest club in LA doesn't get you anything but a handful of sold EPs and a massive lack of interest. Being on tour involves a lot of hauling amps from one stage to another and having awkward, cramped, as-silent-as-possible sex in the tiniest bunk on a moving bus.

Adam stops sleeping again. During the day he's at sound check or rehearsal or catching up on all the interviews he couldn't give when they were busy lying in their respective beds and feeling like shit. They spend the night touching and tasting and fucking - Kris supposes he should know Adam's body inside out by now but every time feels almost brand new.

He calls Ruby, the magician from the hospital where they first got bonded and the only number in his cell phone that doesn't have a direct line to Adam or his parents, after a couple of days - when the cravings aren't dying down and his hands are starting to itch only a couple of hours after Adam leaves - to ask how long a bond takes to settle.

"As long as you get regular sex for the first month, there's no reason for it not to have settled by now," she says. "It's really not that big a deal."

Kris hesitates. "What if you didn't have it in the first month? I mean, didn't have it enough."

"Well the less you have, the longer the settling takes. But I wouldn't worry about it, even people who have sex at most four or five times a day are settled by - say - six months or so. I know that seems like a long time to be dependant, but contrast it with your whole life and if you want it to settle quicker, try increasing your sexual activity."

"Right," Kris says, and goes to watch Allison's sound check so the music will drown out his thoughts and he won't have to think about _'Maybe six months'_ or maybe the rest of his life.

*

They're in Indiana with a rare day off and - even rarer - Adam isn't spending it shopping with Tommy, but instead curled up on the couch in the bus with Kris talking to Ally about Idol and how Matt's doing and about Danny Gokey being the spawn of Satan or whatever.

Kris's phone buzzes on the table and he reaches across to snatch it before Adam can grab it and start reading out all the texts from his mom to the whole bus again - " _Does she really call you Kristopher? Oh, and you call her momma. Oh my god, Kris, just when I think you can't get any more adorable," -_ and unlocks it.

He has a text from Cassidy which seems strange since he got a long rambling email from Brad that morning and usually they alternate so he gets something every couple of days because they think he needs a reminder that he has friends.

He once tried to explain on the phone that he was fine, there were people here, he didn't need them to keep looking out for him but Cass just said, "So you're not sitting on your own in Adam's tour bus moping about leaving your guitar behind and wishing the actual roadies would stop glaring at you?"

Kris had looked up and met the eyes of a glaring roadie - they thought he was just some dumb fanboy who Adam had picked up off the road and disapproved of him insisting on coming along. "I can take care of myself," he said. "You're as bad as Adam. He keeps giving me worried looks and asking if I'm okay. Also buying me shoes, which I guess is his way of trying to cheer me up."

Cass had laughed. "Adam protects the people he sleeps with, Kris. You cannot escape it now. Then when the two of you break up you will be on the Christmas card list and he will invite you for dinner and let you live in his house if you need somewhere to crash. You have joined the special club known as 'Adam's boyfriends' and you will _never get out._ "

At that point Adam had come in and Kris hadn't been able to say _'I'm not his boyfriend, just his bond,_ ' because whenever he said something like that Adam got this strange regretful look in his eye and Kris knew that Adam was having just as shit a time with all this as he was.

He opens the text. _'Check ur email, Kris. Like, right now or twelve hours ago whichever is quicker.'_

He frowns, twisting his phone slightly so that Adam couldn't see the screen even if he tried to look. _'On the bus, in a car park. No internet. Will check 2moro.'_ Tomorrow is Iowa and he can probably find an internet cafe during sound check and get back in time for a quick blow job before Adam has to perform.

Cass texts back almost instantly. _'Find somewhere. Now. I just got a call frm a woman, gave her ur email, u need 2 read it.'_

Kris frowns down at it for a moment and glances around the bus. There's no WiFi here but Adam's Blackberry or Lane's iPhone - if he can find it - both have 3G. But it seems a lot of hassle for one email from one random person.

Another text arrives and he opens it. _'It's about the viper rooms.'_

Kris stares at it for a long moment before turning to Adam. "Can I borrow your phone?"

*

It doesn't sink in on the first reading. Kris manages to read _Christy Landralt_ and _Viper rooms_ and _independent record label_ but his mind can't seem to put the three phrases into any kind of cohesive order, and Adam is leaning closer to try and get a good look at what Kris is reading.

"Is it that the Nigerian Prince thing?" Ally asks, standing up and walking over. "I swear I get like ten of that a day. They can stop the fans finding your email, but not the spammers."

 _Looking to expand to other corners of the market,_ Kris reads. There are a lot of long words and he can't seem to string them together. It doesn't help that he can barely see the screen, the angle he's hold it at to keep it from Adam.

"You're no fun," Adam pouts, reaching forward. "It's my phone. I think you should let me read it out again, and then you should let me reply because you're not actually allowed to tell your mother that we don't want her to send cookies. It's one of the Glamnation laws."

Ally hits him. "We don't have Glamnation laws," she says, then pauses. "But if we did, that would totally be one of them. Can there be cookies, Kris? You wouldn't deprive me of cookies?"

 _Got your email from Cassidy Haley who claims to be your manager (though he wasn't listed as such on your EP so I would need confirmation of that from you),_ it's hard to breathe on this bus, especially with Adam's arm tight around his waist, inching closer to the phone every moment.

Kris pushes his arm away and stands up in one quick moment, pressing the palm of his hand against the phone screen as though Adam can somehow see from every angle. Adam pushes himself up to follow, but something of the confusion and the oh-God-this-can't-be-happening must be showing on Kris's face because he hesitates. "Are you okay? Has something - no one's died, have they?"

"No," he says quickly, pressing the phone to his chest and edging backwards. "No, I just need - some quiet. I need a moment. Don't - don't follow." Then the bathroom door is behind him and he can pull it open and slip inside, pushing across the broken lock for some illusion of privacy and sitting against the door to stop it from opening.

He moves the phone into his eye line slowly, as though the text might have changed while he wasn't watching it, and skims over it picking up key phrases. _My name is Christy Landralt...I work for Silver Dragon Records... indie rock outfit, branching out... saw a video of your concert in the Viper Rooms... based in Houston... would like to talk._

Kris pushes his head between his knees and tries to remember how to breathe.

This is... this is _everything._ This is a label and potentially a record deal and an album. More shows like the Viper Rooms; dark, smoky, up close and amazing. This is making money off music and independence and there is no _way_ Adam can ever hear about it.

He texts Cassidy first. 'This _was possibly 1 of ur worst ideas yet. Im not looking 4 a record deal. Dont giv any1 else my details,'_ and ignores the instant bleep of a reply in favor of typing Christy's number into his own phone and holding it to his ear.

It goes to voicemail and he just about avoids starting his message with a sigh of relief.

"Hi, is that Christy from Silver Dragon Records? My name is Kris Allen, you emailed me about a potential meeting and I'm just calling to let you know that that won't be possible. I'm not at a point in my life where music is either a priority or something I particularly want to continue with. I thank you for your interest, but really it would be better if we both left each other alone."

He hangs up, throws his phone against the wall, deletes the original email then rests his head against his arms and lets himself cry.

*

"Katy has a new boyfriend," he says, when he gets out, and Adam is immediately the concerned boyfriend, tugging Kris back to their bunk to hug him and kiss him and promise to make everything okay.

Adam doesn't have time for Kris to record an album. He doesn't have time for Kris to play shows or have a record deal and he's already given up enough.

But they don't have sex that night.

*

Tommy doesn't like Texas. He's very vocal about the fact, about how it's full of religious fanatics who want to string Adam up for kissing boys and Tommy up for wearing eyeliner because every Christian ever thinks both those things are worth killing people for. He lies with his head in Adam's lap and drawls that if religion were to die, the world would be _'Such a better fucking place, man.'_

Kris had only come in to see about borrowing Monte's fourth best acoustic guitar, but Monte was doing something with the roadies and Adam was trying to get high - sharing a bag of weed with Tommy and a handful of dancers - so he waved for Kris to stay. "Here," he'd said, throwing the bag at Kris. "No point me smoking if you're not."

Kris lit a joint and held it to his lips but didn't inhale. He sat on the floor by the door watching the dancers crawl over Adam and Tommy explaining all the ways Christianity was to blame for every single injustice in the world ever. Kris closes his eyes and wishes he had the courage to stand up and say _'Actually... No.'_

"It's not all black and white," he mutters into his hands.

Tommy lifts his head from Adam's lap to fix Kris with an unimpressed stare. It seems to be Tommy's default expression for the boy who - he has decided - is not worth Adam's time and definitely not worth half of Adam's life force. "Yeah?" he says. "You think when they preach acceptance, they mean it? Sure, they'll be accepting as long as you're a 'normal,' straight, cis-gendered citizen. As long as you dress how they want, and talk how they want, and follow like sheep."

Adam rests a hand on Tommy's shoulder, but Tommy shakes it off. "When was the last time you went to church, Arkansas? Did you tell them about everything you've done since leaving home? Did they give you forgiveness?"

There is a church three blocks away from the venue. Adam had leaned over that morning and said that he wouldn't mind if Kris went - he's prepared to be understanding. Kris had nodded and gone out, walked the streets of Dallas for hours, then gone back to the venue.

He isn't sure he can remember how to pray. He'd tried - once - on the bus while Adam stood on stage belting his songs and kissing Tommy for the entertainment of thousands. There had been no sense that anyone was listening, none of the surety he used to have.

"I still believe," he says.

"Do you believe you're going to Hell?" Tommy falls back into Adam's lap and laughs, taking a long drag on his joint. "Because that's what they keep telling me."

Kris stands up and pulls open the door, slipping out before anyone can call after him. He doesn't know this venue well - he spent most of the set-up time on the streets - and he manages to get lost three times before stumbling through a door and into a back alley.

There's a drizzle of rain that seems light, but somehow manages to soak him through in mere moments. He sits on an old crate and rubs his fingers against each other. He gave his prayer beads to a boy in Haiti, thinking he could always get more. He's had access to pretty much unlimited funds for the last few months and it never even occurred to him as something he should buy.

Spending Adam's money on something like that - he doesn't even know. It's all messed up, same as it has been since the moment he failed to say 'break it' and ended up in this mess.

"He didn't mean it like that," Adam says, standing in the porch area because he's already spent the required three hours on his hair and can't afford to get it wet. "He - he's seen shit things, we all have, but he didn't mean you."

"Of course he meant me." Kris looks down at his hands and wishes he could just ask for answers.

"You don't believe any of that shit. About second class citizens, and not being people. I know you, Kris, you can't think badly of anyone - different... Tommy's just a bitch when he's high."

"You don't know anything about me."

"Kris -"

Kris doesn't look around, just stands up and starts to walk away. Part of him - an irrational, stupid part - wishes Adam would run after him, put Kris before his hair and the concert and whatever the fuck else. "I didn't have a problem with Tommy being all over you in there," he says, instead. "As long as you're sleeping with me, I think I could cope with you dating other people. I know I'm not - enough, not what you would look for, so you can date, if you want. I don't care."

"Kris -"

Kris turns a corner before he's tempted to turn back and look at Adam's face. He runs to the church, stumbles inside dripping wet and drops into a pew, closing his eyes and pressing his hands together.

 _I don't know what to do,_ he prays. _Please help me._

 _*_

"What the _fuck_ is this?" Adam demands, slamming open the door to the bus and storming on boards

Kris looks up from where he's been plucking at Monte's guitar, trying to write a song with no idea what he wants to say. Adam has his hair up, his first costume on and stage make-up covering his face but for some reason instead of waiting in the wings for his performance, he's standing here waving a small device in Kris's face. "It's a Blackberry," Kris says. "Unless I'm much mistaken, it's your Blackberry. Don't you have a concert to attend?"

"Fuck the concert!" He raises his hand as though to throw the phone, then thinks better of it, turning it round instead so he can see the screen. "See, I was checking my email because I haven't been getting notifications recently and I wasn't really thinking about it but - yeah - usually I get about fifty emails a day and suddenly lately I've been getting none at all and network coverage can't actually be that bad so I'm going into my inbox and all I see is four emails all addressed to Krisallen4real@gmail.com."

Ah, that's probably why he's pissed. Kris bites his lip nervously, tightening his fingers on the guitar. "I guess I forgot to sign out, sorry. I, uh, I hope you didn't miss anything important?"

Adam waves this issue off as though it's nothing, even though it was enough to get him to abandon his concert before it had even started to come and yell in Kris's face. "Who gives an actual fuck what I missed?" he demands, thumbing something hard on the phone. " _'Dear Mr. Allen, I'm just emailing to confirm the receipt of your phone message and to express my regret that you aren't interested in my offer right now.'_ " He pauses to look over the phone at Kris.

Kris can't meet his eyes. He should check his email more often. He should check them and delete them and Adam is probably pissed that Kris even considered it. He holds out a hand for the phone. "Can I - I should deal with it and you can do your concert or whatever -"

"I know you may think music is not what you want, but there was a passion to your performance that makes me think maybe other issues are also part of the problem. We are prepared to be flexible and to give a large amount of freedom in the way you record, if that goes any way towards convincing you." Adam pauses again, Kris wishes he could disappear, fade away into the cushions and never have to look at anyone again. "If you change your mind please remember us and give me a call. You have incredible talent, Kris. Please don't waste it. Christy Landralt, Silver Dragon Records."

He throws the phone and Kris is so surprised he almost doesn't catch it, but his fingers close on the black plastic just in time. The email is pretty much word for word what Adam said. Christy has also attached a sample contract for him to peruse at his leisure.

"What the fuck?" Adam says, again.

Kris deletes the email, glances at the others - a suggestion for _Is it Over_ and a recommendation for a band to check out while he's in Atlanta from Cassidy, and a link to a video about a cat chasing a laser from Brad - before signing out of his email account. "It's nothing," he says, tossing the phone back. "I thought I'd dealt with it."

Adam catches the phone, glances at the screen, then tosses it carelessly onto the floor. "That email was from five days ago - five _fucking_ days - why the _fuck_ didn't you tell me?"

It is about this point that Kris realizes Adam is well beyond pissed. "I said I'd dealt with it. I called her up, said I couldn't, I thought that would be that. It's no big deal."

"What do you mean you can't?" Adam demands, pulling Kris up completely short. "This is a fucking label, Kris. They're offering you a fucking record deal - they're offering to let you dictate your own contract - do you have any _idea_ how big a deal that is? I thought you were a musician."

Kris tightens his fingers a little on Monte's guitar because Adam looks like he might be about to smash it. "I can't record an album," he snaps, unable to keep the frustration from his voice because Adam is acting like Kris turned this down because he doesn't _want_ it. "You don't have time."

"And you get to decide this for me, do you? I didn't save your life so you could waste it trailing along after me all the fucking time."

Kris takes a deep breath and doesn't break Adam's _fucking_ nose for suggesting that this is somehow Kris's decision, that he gave up everything because he _wanted_ this. He lifts the guitar strap slowly over his head and places the instrument down on the seat beside him before standing up. Sure, he's up to a head smaller than Adam depending on how high Adam's boots are on any given day. "So why did you save me?" he asks coldly. "Because I honestly have no idea. Do you just hang around hospitals waiting for small southern guys to show up so you can do whatever it takes to get in their pants?"

Adam goes very still. "You were a broken bloody mess," he says. "You couldn't have been my type unless my type was 'twisted up and covered in blood.' Which it isn't, by the way."

"Glad we've got that cleared up," Kris snaps, and has to bite back on whatever he was going to say next because Adam's hand curls around the back of his head and Kris is tilting his face back to receive a violent, angry kiss with too much teeth that's oh-so-good and Adam's already tugging at his belt.

"You can break this any time," Adam reminds him, biting down his chest hard enough to leave marks as he tugs open Kris's pants. "You know that."

Kris is already hard when Adam's lips touch his cock and the best thing about the blow job - aside from Adam's lips and his eyes and the feeling of everything settling into place and the orgasm and _Adam_ \- is that it shuts him up. "So can you," Kris reminds him, tugging a hand through his hair to stick it up in all directions. "Since I'm wasting our life."

Adam swallows then stands up to tug Kris into another sharp kiss, jerking himself off quickly with Kleenex and a leather gloved hand. "You can't let anything slide, can you Kristopher? Everything's such a fucking big deal as long as you don't have to actually try for it."

"Go do your fucking concert."

" _Gladly_."

Kris manages to stay standing in righteous indignation until Adam has slammed the bus door shut behind him, then Kris drops into the sofa and tugs the guitar back onto his lap, running his fingers across the strings and hating Adam so _fucking_ much for acting like everything should be easy. He finds a chord beneath his fingers and strums slowly, suddenly full of all the ideas that wouldn't come.

He tugs an old set list closer, turns it over and scrawls on the back in eyeliner pencil - something far easier to find on this bus than a pen - _Send Me All Your Angels._

*

Adam doesn't say a word to Kris when he slides into bed that night and is gone before Kris wakes in the morning, but his response to the argument of the night before arrives while Kris is having breakfast in the form of Lane and one of the slightly less intimidating bodyguards who both climb into the bus while Kris is eating a Pop Tart and drinking a shitty, cheap coffee.

"Well," Lane snaps. "Let's get on with this."

In the limo - because of course it's a limo - Kris manages to make her explain that Adam has scheduled a meeting with the A&R of 'some tiny indie label' on Kris's behalf and has sent Lane along to look over any contracts and make sure they're both fair and open enough that no one will try to stop Kris from following Adam on tour. On her own behalf, she's there to make sure Kris doesn't try to cash in on Adam's publicity - "There's enough of _that_ going round" - and, apparently, to make it very clear how much she dislikes Kris. Just in case he hasn't got the memo already.

"You're a drain on resources, you aren't helping anything - he's better with you around obviously but he was even better before you came into his life so that's a moot point - and you're spending his money as though you have a right to it."

"I needed food and such to live," Kris points out because he didn't exactly run out and start spending Adam's money left right and center. He's still using his old phone, his old guitar, he doesn't own a laptop. All the new clothes were completely Cassidy's fault.

"You hired a drummer," Lane points out. "A drummer is _not_ a living expense." Then she goes off on some tirade about Adam's career and his image and Kris doesn't say that he's been kept awake at night worrying about these exact problems, he just tunes her out and takes out his phone to text Adam.

'u _saved my life, u dnt get 2 run it. This is NOT okay.'_ Adam doesn't reply, but Kris didn't really expect him to and then he has to turn his phone off for the meeting with Christy - a middle aged woman with a bright smile and a Misfits T-shirt - who raves about _Bring it Back_ until Lane reminds her they're on a time limit.

She's charming and professional, doesn't bat an eyelid when Kris tells her he's about to be travelling the world for a time and only raises her eyebrows a little when Lane chips in that he'll be able to access studios in other countries if the label would be willing to have tracks sent to them.

She asks how much of Kris's EP was written by him and when he says all of it she claps delightedly and starts talking music. Kris ends up telling her about writing _Brand New Shoes_ but not having enough money for studio sessions so having to record them on a laptop and just rip them onto CDs for his close friends. When he lets slip that he's still working on music she makes him play _Can't Stay Away_ and the first verse of _Send Me All Your Angels_ and presents him with a contract the moment he leaves the booth.

Lane instantly snatches it from her and starts scouring through it, pulling a pen from one of the pockets in her bag to scribble out phrases and replace them with things she likes better. When they start arguing about foreign rights - Kris almost wants to laugh because he's not going to sell in the US, let alone abroad—but he just picks up his guitar and keeps writing.

Eventually they seem to finish. Lane slams the contract down and says "Okay, type that up, email it to me and we'll see how it goes from there." Christy nods brightly, as though she hasn't spent 3 hours poring over this one pile of papers and slides the revised contract into her bag.

"Pleasure to meet you, Kris," she says, shaking his hand. "I look forward to hearing the tracks for your album."

Kris has no idea what kind of contract he's even in, but apparently he has no say in any of this so he just shrugs and smiles back. "Thanks."

In the limo, Lane doesn't speak to him for a long time. They're nearly back at the buses - parked outside the hotel in Houston - when she finally looks up at him. "You're not bad you know," she says. "Vocally. You could actually make it in this business."

Kris holds out his wrist. "Not with this I won't."

Lane purses her lips for a moment, and then touches something on her phone. "I know Adam asked Brad to look, but I'll put out some feelers. There must be a magician somewhere who can break a bond without undoing everything it achieved."

Kris is actually taken aback. "Thank you," he says slowly as the car pulls to a stop.

Lane slams her phone back in her bag. "I just said I'd try," she snaps, tugging open the car door and stepping out, only hesitating to stick her head back in and add. "Do you know how many people die every day without being saved?

*

Kris doesn't sleep with Adam that night. He has a key to Adam's room, but he leaves it at the reception desk in favor of getting back on the bus and crawling into his bunk.

He sits up front with the driver on the way to Oklahoma, writing stupid songs about whatever they drive past on the road and the dog that the man has a photo of on his dashboard. Over lunch, Adam says, "I didn't know you sang," and Kris doesn't look at him.

Kris takes Monte's guitar to a church on Oklahoma where the pastor doesn't shout at him for plucking soft tunes that echo around the rooftops. He goes back to the bus late enough that Adam has already crashed and sleeps on the sofa, just to be rudely awakened the next morning by Tommy sitting on his stomach.

Tommy eats breakfast with him and apologizes for occasionally being a dick. Kris shrugs and tries to be philosophical. "Some religious folk hate all guys in eyeliner, I guess some guys in eyeliner hate all religious folk."

"It's a vicious cycle," Tommy says, lathering his toast in chocolate spread before glancing up at Kris to add, "But you're not so bad."

They convince the drivers to pull over so they can move to the other bus where no one is sleeping and they can jam together for the rest of the drive. Their music tastes are pretty much as different as can be but Tommy plays Kris some _Mouthlike_ which is surprisingly good and Kris plays the songs off his EP which Tommy admits are tolerable and eventually they discover common ground in the form of Allison Iraheta.

Kris sees Adam briefly before the show but there isn't even time to talk and he falls asleep in the bunk before Adam gets back from the concert. When he wakes up, Adam isn't next to him but there's a blanket on the sofa and a packet of Tylenol on the pillow beside Kris's head with a note that says 'It _'_ s _your life_.'

Kris jerks off in the shower thinking about Adam and how he hasn't had to do this himself for weeks now. Then they're in Mississipi and he doesn't see Adam all day - he actually ends up slipping into the audience to watch the performance. Adam's voice cracks twice and he snaps his cane in two by tripping over it during the Strut dance.

Kris leaves before the kiss and sits up front with the driver who lets him fall asleep in the passenger seat without comment but shakes him awake around sunrise. "You were having a nightmare."

Kris closes his eyes and sees a flash of something coming towards him. He doesn't go back to sleep but he does find the Tylenol in his pocket and take two with a sip of the driver's cold coffee.

"Are you okay?" the driver asks.

Adam has interviews all day today but Kris is itching all over , his head still hurts after the pills and he'd almost managed to forget what all this shit felt like. He can't be proud forever.

*

Lane slams open the bus door halfway through the concert. Kris has his hands resting on the guitar but the sounds hurt his head and he feels like a wound spring just waiting for Adam to stumble in through the bus doors. Lane's hair is falling out of its ponytail and she's panting as though she just ran all the way from backstage. "I don't care what you're pissed about," she says. "You're coming with me."

Kris pulls off the guitar. "Is the concert over?"

Lane doesn't wait, just grabs his wrist and pulls him into a jog behind her. "It will be if you don't hurry the fuck up." She tugs him past the bouncers without a word, through the dark back stage corridors and Kris can hear the end of _Ring of Fire_ over the venue sound system.

They arrive in the wings as Adam starts Fever and Kris can see why Lane went to get him. On stage Adam is missing notes which - no - Adam never misses notes but somehow he's dropping whole passages and stumbling on the steps. Tommy steps forward to press himself against Adam's back and Adam flinches backwards as though Tommy's on fire. He takes several steps back, trips over the bottom step, misses the kiss entirely.

"Fuck," says Lane, grabbing Kris's arm again. "Get out there." She pushes hard and suddenly Kris is stumbling on stage in a plaid shirt and a pair of old jeans with patch on the knee.

Kris has previously mocked the fact that Adam has to block his ears on stage but he takes all of that back because the noise from the audience is like some kind of fucking battering ram that slams straight through his head and out the other side. The lights white out his vision and he has to take a few more stumbling steps forwards so he doesn't fall over - praying that Tommy has the good sense to keep out of his way.

A hand touches his and the burning that Kris has kind of stopped noticing because it is _always there_ fades to the familiar but still amazing feeling of peace and painlessness and not-alone-never-alone.

Adam makes a faintly desperate sound, apparently forgetting that his microphone is still broadcasting the private moment to every single one of the thousands of people packing the stadium, and pulls Kris close against him. "I'm sick of laying down alone," and - yeah - his voice isn't quite perfect but that's only because it's tinged with desperation, need, _longing._ "With this fever, _fever_."

Adam grabs Kris's jaw in one hand and kisses him fiercely.

The crowd goes wild.


	6. Chapter 6

Adam wakes up with Kris's naked body pressed against his and for a moment everything is perfect. He honestly believes he would be happy if he never moved again.

Unfortunately it was Tommy's hand on his shoulder that woke him. "Lane has a car out front," Tommy says. "There's an emergency meeting, you have to attend."

He's doomed. He's going to be fired and possibly eviscerated and in a year no one will remember his name. No more albums, no more tours, he might not even be allowed to finish this show. That was his last night. His last night was a concert in New Orleans and at least the first third was terrible.

He shifts Kris carefully off him and onto the bunk so he can side out and reach for his clothes. "Was it a good show?" he asks - half dreading the answer. All he can remember is Kris on stage next to him lit up by the lights and the music, his head resting on Adam's knee where they sat on the stage and Adam singing for him - for this one boy.

Tommy laughs and Adam's heart sinks. "Fucking incredible," he says. "Easily the best show you have _ever_ done."

Adam brushes his fingers lightly against Kris's hair. "If we don't get through this," he says to Tommy. "Will you come back to LA with me? You, me and Monte. We could play the clubs, the bars."

"Believe me, you're going to get through this." He leans forward to pull Adam into a one armed hug. "And I played Disneyland for you, man. I will follow you anywhere."

Adam hugs him back, turns to drop a kiss on Kris's forehead then grabs his jacket off one of the sofas and heads out of the bus to where a limo is waiting. He checks his messages in the limo; congratulations from all of his friends back home, a _'Keep it down back there'_ from Monte and a text telling him to check his email from Cass because there's a 'surprise' in his inbox. It's probably one of the videos from last night and as much as Adam wants to see them, he doesn't want to show up at his very important meeting with a raging hard on so he checks Twitter instead.

The comments are surprisingly positive. He scrolls through all the 'omg@ _adamlambert was SO HOT last night!!!!', 'who's_ @ _adamlambert's mystery guy?', 'BEST NIGHT OF GLAMNATION Y_ / _Y????'_ and only manages to find a handful of complaints from people who missed half the concert because they had to go into a bathroom. 'Live _gay porn,'_ someone has tweeted. 'Awesome _, hot, oddly adorable :))))_. '

In spite of all the positive feedback, however, the label still seem to regard dragging your top-secret kind-of-boyfriend on stage and making out with him in front of thousands of people as an emergency. Adam barely gets through the doors of the local 19 branch before someone is dragging him into a meeting room. Lane is in there already having briefed the whole team, but she doesn't look happy and she makes Adam take the seat next to her.

It appears to be all about damage control. Someone's even written it on the blackboard, alongside grainy camera-phone images of Adam dragging Kris centre stage, Kris with his head on Adam's knee, Kris tilting his head back for a kiss looking so completely out of place in his stupid plaid shirt.

Adam feels himself tense up just looking at them, his skin itching and he suddenly regrets leaving Kris sleeping that morning. Morning sex would have been awesome, morning sex with Kris especially after last night and Adam loses the entire conversation for a few minutes and is thinking about ducking out to find somewhere more private and a phone when someone says something that jerks him back into the room.

"But Kris dying straight after the break up is too suspicious," Adam doesn't know the name of the man, but he is so very fired. "Even if we find a van to stage it properly. We'll have to give it at least a couple of months, which means more secret meetings that could get them caught at any time."

Adam turns his head to frown at Lane. "I thought this was so they could bitch at me about the show."

Lane lets out a low snort. "They liked the show," she mutters, stabbing her iPhone so hard with one finger it looks like she's trying to break holes in it. "And the amount of headlines you're going to grab. This is a meeting about how to deal with Kris being in the public eye and then how to manage the time when you break the bond and he dies."

"Have you told them I'm not going to break the bond?"

Lane stabs her phone again and doesn't look at him. "Apparently it's not about what you want. They have a list of celebrities they want you to be seen dating, bonding a southern indie musician is not part of the _plan._ "

A debate about how quickly Kris can lose the attention if the media is interrupted by a man who's name Adam can't remember looking up from his notes. "Or they could not break up."

Lane's eyes dart up at the same time as Adam's, although she looks more suspicious of the plan. "What are you saying?"

The man grins in that unnerving shark-like manner that PR people apparently have down to a science. "They could not break up," he says again. "We show them at some big events, they're very much in love. Maybe we even throw out the idea that they're thinking about bonding after the Glamnation tour. Unfortunately after the last show Kris gets hit by a van. Obviously this is a tragic accident and Adam will be distraught and grieving on the cover of every magazine this side of the Atlantic." He leans back in his chair, satisfied. "And his album sales will go through the _roof._ "

Adam waits for someone to protest this. Waits for someone to yell that Kris is a person and so is Adam and no way are they going to kill Kris and if they do Adam will certainly not have to _act_ distraught and he will keep his pain out of the press as much as he damn well can and he isn't breaking up with Kris so they can just shove that up their -

Except, he has to break up with Kris. Kris has his music and Katy and the whole straight-or-maybe-bi thing to work out.

But he won't kill Kris. They'll work something out. The bond will settle, maybe, and then they'll be able to stay if not in different cities, on different streets in the same city without the constant itches and pains and feeling as if something is inherently wrong.

"Yes," says a woman with her hair pulled back so tightly it must be cutting off the circulation to whatever part of her brain is human. "I can see that working."

Adam kicks back his chair and leaves the room. He doesn't even know where he's going, just storms down a random corridor until he finds a reasonably empty room to shut the door of so he can collapse on the floor and bury his head in his arms.

A moment later the door opens and Lane slips in, sitting on the table to rest her hand on the back of his neck.

"I didn't save him just so I could kill him later for _album sales,_ " Adam spits.

She rubs his shoulders gently. "I know."

"I can't be with him forever - he doesn't, I can't force him into that but when we break it, he'll survive it. It'll be an amicable break up and we'll still be friends and I won't get a single _fucking_ album sold from it. I won't use him." He closes his eyes for a moment. "Can I borrow your iPhone?"

She passes it to him without comment and he goes online, using the browser to check his emails. The one from Cassidy is buried under a load of spam and fan mail and shit from the label but he finds it eventually.

'Hey _,_

 _So I know you'll be getting a lot of shit right now about Kris being bad for your career and maybe there'll be more people like Lane who think you should let him die because your image is more important. People will give you all sorts of good reasons why it isn't killing him so much as just not saving him anymore and how he died months ago and anything else is just borrowed time that he's wasting so there's no real point to it, nothing's been gained._

 _Attached is the EP that Kris recorded in your studio and we sold every copy we had of in the Viper Rooms._

 _None of these songs would exist if you hadn't saved him._

 _Think about that._

 _Cass.'_

Adam rests his head on Lane's shoulder so they can share a set of headphones. He listens to the EP twice through then turns to look at her. She has slight streaks of mascara on her cheeks and for the first time since he first met her, she's still.

"Fire the PR team," Adam says.

He goes back to the bus where Kris is sitting at the small table strumming thoughtfully chords on his guitar. "As long as it takes," Adam says.

Kris glances up and frowns a little. "What?"

"I will stay with you for as long as it takes." He sits down at the table and rests his head in his arms. After a moment, Kris reaches out to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. "I will - I won't make you do anything you don't want to but you clearly want to do music so I'll get you into studios wherever we go and you can record your album and no one is going to hurt you."

Kris's hand goes still, and after a long moment Adam looks up to see Kris watching him. "I saved you because I couldn't stand there and watch you die," Adam finds himself saying. "You were lying there, broken up and ruined but still alive, still _fighting_ and everyone had just given up, no one was even trying to save you. I saw them giving up on you and I saw the van driver and all I could think was _'How come he gets to live and you don't?'_ " He reaches out one hand to brush his fingers against Kris's cheek, and then he starts to pull it away Kris presses his palm against his knuckles to hold it still.

"I don't think I ever said thank you."

Adam drops his gaze. "You don't have to -"

"Thank you." He reaches out with one hand to tilt Adam's chin up, his gorgeous brown eyes meeting Adam's and there is far too much shit between them. "For saving my life."

Adam tugs him forward and leans across the table to kiss him. The guitar breaks against the table, the angle is awkward and it's actually kind of painful, but Kris's lips are curved into a smile against his and that's what matters, in the end.

That's all that matters.

*

Adam assumes that will be the end of it. He spends his day off in New Orleans on the bus re-exploring every inch of Kris's body and begging with touches, kisses and dirty whispers until Kris sings in his ear. He doesn't have the huge range, doesn't do massive high notes or a run on every note, but his voice is clear and perfect in Adam's ear. He sings _Heartless_ and it shouldn't work with his voice but somehow he turns it into a completely different song, beautiful for its simplicity.

When Adam pushes off his jeans and runs his fingers across Kris's cock, his voice breaks and it's gorgeous. Adam kisses those lips, tastes that voice and briefly imagines he could be okay with this forever.

Lane knocks on the bus door in the early afternoon and refuses to leave until they throw some clothes on and open the door for her. "Adam," she says, glossing over the fact that she had to stand outside for fifteen minutes and they're still in various states of disarray. "I've had a few more meetings and we've come to a decision about how we're going to go from here. Obviously the gossip sites are saying that you wonder around picking up random boys in every city and it's shameful, I need you and Kris to convince the world that you're very much in love and have been for some time now." She turns to Kris. "Your contract arrived. I've made notes for you about what it says in basic English, so you can read through them before you sign it and know what you're getting into. The contract is only for one album - I didn't know if you wanted to be tied down, but there's an option to sign on with them again. If you could come with me, we can get that sent off this afternoon."

Kris hesitates for a moment, but Adam pushes him forwards. "I'll still be here when you get back," he says and Kris smiles back at him - a brief genuine smile that lights up his face.

Lane waits in the doorway for Kris to pass her, before grinning over at Adam. "While we're gone, I need you to call Cassidy."

"Why?"

"Last night's show was the most popular of the tour so far." She rubs her hands together. "Kris is going to need a costume."

*

Adam races through the first three songs, unable to stop his eyes flicking to the wings where Kris must surely be waiting by now. Allison had got all excited after they spent all day in the bus and stole the costume box from Cassidy before Adam could so much as glance at it, telling him that he wasn't allowed to see Kris until he came out on stage.

"So Atlanta," Adam says, letting the screams of the crowd wash over him. "Any of you check out the footage from New Orleans?"

The crowd gets louder, the girls in the front row screaming so hard their throats are going to be completely fucked by the end of the night and it's so amazing that for a moment Adam just wants to spread his arms and - in the words of Paula Abdul - _take it all in_.

"So I'm up there on stage," he says, crossing to lean nonchalantly on Tommy's shoulder, the only thing the right height. "Hey there Glitterbaby. So I'm up there and I'm thinking about how hot Tommy is and how he's a pretty damn amazing kisser - am I right?"

Someone in the crowd as an _'Adommy_ Forever' banner. Adam grins at it, wondering what they're going to call him and Kris. Adis? Adaris?

"But then I'm also thinking about this other guy, and this other guy is _amazing_ in a cute, unassuming way. I don't know how many of you know about my slight weakness in the face of accents, but this guy has a southern drawl which makes me melt." He drops a casual kiss on Tommy's cheek and moves away from him. "So I'm up there, about to kiss Tommy because who wouldn't kiss Tommy Joe Ratliff, right? And all I can think of is this other guy standing in the shadows and watching me." He laughs and screws the rest of the build up. "Hey, Kris Allen. Are you in the house?" He glances backstage but can't see anything in the shadows and nothing seems to be moving.

Then a spotlight swings around to the front of the stage where Kris is standing with his hair spiked up and dusted with dark shadows and eyeliner smudged around his eyes.

Adam crosses to the front of the stage in a heartbeat, crouching down to look Kris in the eye as the band start to play. "There he goes, my baby, walks so slow -" he sings on autopilot, more focused on tugging Kris up onto the stage, taking in the skin tight black jeans that show off Kris's amazing ass and hang low enough on his hips that there's a visible slice of skin between them and the leather waistcoat that's all he has on his top half aside from thick black wristbands and one of Adam's necklaces hanging around his neck.

Adam doesn't miss the fact that the wrist band hides Kris's tattoo entirely, but he also doesn't miss the sheen of glitter on Kris's skin, the faint blush under the make-up and the embarrassed-but-delighted smile on his lips.

"I will never forgive you for this," Kris's lips shape, although Adam can't actually hear him over the music.

Adam laughs, throwing off the song's rhythm entirely, and kisses him until they reach a point in the music where he can find his place again. " _There it goes, you stole my soul and so_."

Kris laughs and leans back against Adam, letting Adam wrap on arm around his waist and rest his head on Kris's warm shoulder to sing beside his ear. Somewhere behind him the dancers are dancing and the band is playing but he ignores it all in favour of running his hand down to the top of Kris's thigh and sending the crowd wild. When he sings "I get this fever when I kiss him," Kris tilts his head back, flicks his eyebrows and murmurs, "Really?" grinding backwards against Adam in those jeans that could have been painted on.

The song finishes early as Adam drags Kris carelessly off the side of the stage. "You're lucky I have a costume change," he says, pressing Kris against the wall to kiss him and tug at the catch of his jeans.

Kris laughs because he's the only - adorable, infuriating - person Adam knows who can laugh while he's being ravished against a wall. "I only have the one costume." He knocks Adam's hand lightly off his zipper. "And Cass made me promise not to ruin it until after the concert." But he does drop down to blow Adam backstage, looking up with black ringed eyes and when Adam drags a hand through his hair it comes away covered in black dust and glitter.

"You're amazing," Adam whispers, tasting himself on Kris's tongue as Kris smiles and does up his jeans and a wardrobe assistant runs forward with the black coat, frowning at the two of them.

Kris smiles one of his charming southern smiles at her and lets Adam take his hand before they walk back on stage, releasing it to sit on an amp at the side and casually hi-five a few of the girls in the audience.

Adam sings Soaked centre stage then drops back to sit on the steps for Whataya Want From Me, and this time he doesn't pretend he's singing to anyone else in the hall but his bond. He turns around and looks straight into Kris's eyes, sings the first verse soft and slow then beckons him over.

Kris laughs, his face lighting up a little and crosses to the steps, sitting on the one below Adam so he can rest his head against Adam's knee and Adam can brush a hand through his hair. " _It's me, I'm a freak, but thanks for loving me, 'cause you're doing it perfectly."_

Somewhere in the crowd a chant has started for 'Kradam' and Adam smiles a little wider because - yeah - it's perfect. He finishes the song with his fingers sliding other the leather of Kris's waistcoat. "So, Kris," he says - over the screams of the crowd. "How are you finding the concert?"

Kris flicks his eyebrows up and takes the microphone from Adam's hand, "I always dreamed about being serenaded by a gorgeous rocker," he says, so cool and calm that Adam wants to fuck him there and then just to get him flustered. "Of course, in the dream we weren't in front of thousands of screaming fans at the time."

Adam laughs and takes the microphone back. "Details, details," he says. "I'm sure they don't mind." The crowd lets out a cheer that shows exactly how little they mind. "See, honey. Now, you didn't vote for me on Idol, did you?"

Kris glances out at the sea of people. "At the risk of being lynched," he says. "I was on team Allison."

"Which is a team I fully support, as you well know." Adam drops onto the lower step so he can hold the microphone between them. "But you didn't vote for me even once? I couldn't have done anything that would have changed your mind?"

Kris meets his pleading look with a casual challenge. "Sure," he says, leaning back against the steps. "I told Kat - a friend that if you sang Disney during movies week, you could have my votes for the rest of the competition."

So Adam totally did not expect that, but he has always said he has a song for every occasion so he hold out a hand for the microphone and stands up, flicking the black coat around him as he glances back to see Kris leaning back on the steps and watching him with a _'Go on, prove me wrong about_ you' expression that Adam is dying to wipe away.

" _I know that your powers of retention_ ," Adam sings, acapella, in a low growl of a voice that shudders through the audience like a wave. " _Are as wet as a warthog's backside."_ LP comes in on the drums, pounding out a steady African rhythm that Adam can stalk across the stage too, running his hand through his hair so it sticks up in a halo around his head. " _But thick as you are, pay attention. My words are a matter of pride_."

Monte comes in, Tommy following his lead a beat later. Adam tosses his head back and tugs the earplugs out so he can hear the crowd sing. " _It's clear from your vacant expressions, the lights are not all on upstairs._ " A few of his dancers creep back on stage from the wings, keeping close to the ground with their heads tilted up and wide smiles. Adam crosses to them, running a hand across their backs and shoulders as they press up against him. " _But we're talking kings and succession, even you can't be caught unawares_."

He spins away and they all drop flat. For an instant he appreciates how in tune the whole family have got over the last few nights of tour, but then he's distracted by Kris looking up at him, his tongue sliding out a touch to lick his lips. " _So prepare for the chance of a lifetime_ ," Adam sings, sultry and hot as he moves slowly towards Kris, hips swishing the coat from side to side. " _Prepare for sensational news. A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer, and oh where you feature, well listen to teacher._ "

He extends a hand and Kris takes it, letting Adam spin him in close, run his hands down Kris's sides and onto his exposed hips. " _I know it sounds sordid but you'll be rewarded when at last I am given my dues._ " He pushes lightly and Kris understands, falling forwards to the ground amongst the dancers, twisting around to tilt his face up to Adam, black ringed eyes sparkling and gorgeous.

" _And injustice deliciously squared, Be Prepared_." He tosses his head back, throwing in the glory note to end all glory notes as the instruments drop away and all that's left if his voice ringing out over the roar of the crowd.

And finally he drops it down to a low croon. " _Yes, injustice deliciously squared. Be prepared_." One last drum roll echoing around the hall and the lights go out, someone up in the booth seems to have a penchant for the dramatic.

The lights rise again slowly, the dancers rolling onto their backs to laugh and breath heavily. It's all terribly unprofessional but Kris is smiling and leaning back against Adam's legs so Adam finds he doesn't care one bit. He breathes heavily, sweating from the lights, and raises the microphone to his lips. "So," he says. "How was that?"

Kris doesn't take the microphone, but he does stand up, facing Adam so with his back to the audience and hisses him. The microphone is still between them, catching Adam's ragged breathing and Kris's low moan. Behind them the audience are going wild and Adam wishes he could live in this moment forever.

But eventually Kris has to step away, taking the microphone with him. "Well," he says. "I voted for you in the finale. I guess you finally earned it."

Adam pulls him close and kisses him again. Fuck the show.

*

 _'Possibly hoping for a repeat of his album-selling AMAs controversy, Adam Lambert has started bringing a boyfriend on stage for no purpose other than to kiss and make headlines. The two seemed very close despite the fact that Lambert has been busy touring ever since breaking up with Drake LaBry. Perhaps accusations of cheating were directed the wrong way in that particular break up -'_

Adam goes online and tweets 'Kris _Allen is my boyfriend and I love him. Don't believe everything you read, guys!'_ Kris caught by a fan afterwards that waves a camera phone and begs him for an interview. He says they met in the hospital and after Adam broke up with Drake they went for a coffee and got talking. He says they were both interested in music but with Adam's tour they agreed to take it slow and Kris stayed in LA when Adam went out but a month or so in Kris wasn't earning a huge amount of money so when Adam asked if he wanted to travel with the tour, he said yes.

Adam watches it on YouTube and makes notes. When Kris gets back, Lane comes onto the bus and draws out a spreadsheet. With Tommy and Monte's help, they chart the entire fake relationship from beginning to end.

Adam drags Kris into the back of the bus as soon as she's done. "You voted for me?" he says, already tugging at the buttons of Kris's shirt. He didn't take off the eyeliner before he went to bed, it's smudged hot and delicious around his eyes.

Kris laughs and kisses him. "Once," he says."It was a token gesture."

 _'The former American Idol is apparently taking advantage of his headlining tour to pick up strangers off the street and make out with them on stage -'_

Adam is woken at a crazy hour of the morning by Kris's phone. Kris, naturally, sleeps through anything so it's down to Adam to tug Kris's pants off the floor and hunt through the pockets for the phone which is tiny, ancient and incomprehensible. He hits the green button and immediately Katy is screaming happily into his ear. "You mentioned me on stage! You very nearly said my name!"

Adam lets out a low moan. "I'll say your name every night if you don't call this early again," he offers, blinking sleep out of his eyes and reaching over to shake Kris awake. "Kris, Kris, your girlfriend's on the line."

Kris moans and pushes his hand away. "Five more minutes."

"The performance is on YouTube," Katy says. "You know YouTube. That website that anyone and they're _parents_ can get onto."

Kris bolts awake and snatches the phone from Adam's hand. "Please tell me my parents didn't see. Katy you have to stop them. Tell them anyone who uses the internet today will catch HIV, tell them all computers are set to explode, tell them I will die if they even think of looking -"

Adam tugs him closer, rubbing a calming hand across Kris's taught stomach. It has the added bonus of bringing the phone close enough to his ear that he can hear Katy's reply. "I have already convinced my parents to keep yours away from the newspapers and the internet and _phones_ but you need to call them and start talking. You do not want them to find out about your gay by watching video of you dressed up in leather and eyeliner grinding your boyfriend in front of thousands of people."

"I'm not gay," Kris says, because it seems to be the only thing he's at all sure of. "And I should - yeah - you're right. Fuck. What are they going to say? I should do this face to face."

"You should have done it four months ago." Her voice softens a little. "They'll be okay, Kris, you'll get through this. They love you and care for you no matter what you choose."

Kris turns his head away a little but he can't stop Adam hearing. "I wasn't good enough," and Katy's slight sob of a reply.

"You don't think your momma would want you to do whatever it took to stay alive, Kris?" She hesitates. "If you don't tell them now you're going to keep putting it off until you show up on Christmas eve with a boyfriend who sparkles more than the tree."

Kris's shoulders shake in a sob-turned-laugh that makes Adam reach out to pull him closer. "Okay," he says, reaching behind him to touch Adam's leg for reassurance. "Okay, I'll call them."

"Isaiah 41:10," Katy says. "Call me after, okay?"

Kris hangs up then turns over to bury his face in Adam's neck and let Adam's arms wrap tight around him. "What did she say?" Adam asks.

"Isaiah 41:10," Kris says. "It's a Bible verse. _'Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God._ ' I'm sure Tommy would disapprove."

Adam kisses his fiercely. "Screw Tommy."

Kris smiles a little. "How about I screw you instead?"

 _'Apparently having decided his show was not grabbing enough headlines, Adam Lambert has returned to his stance of putting shock and inappropriate content ahead of singing in -'_

Kris doesn't let Adam listen in on his call to his parents, but he comes out of it with a hesitant smile. "My mum wants your autograph," he says, crossing the bus to stand on his toes and give Adam a quick kiss on the cheek. "And also she - uh - says thank you. She said it quite a few times actually." He rubs the back of his neck. "Apparently saving my life was kind of a big deal to her and - yeah. Um, we have a few days off before Singapore and she invited the two of us back home -"

Adam's heart drops as quickly as it was raised, his mind full of all Brad's stories about Texas and Kris's reluctance to tell his parents initially. "You," Adam says. "She invited you home."

Kris frowns a little because he's so fucking _innocent_ and all he's experienced of the Great Gay Lifestyle is Adam's million dollar mansion and touring with guys who regard a jockstrap to be acceptable clothing for a concert. "Us," he says.

"Kris, I appreciate your naivety. It's a refreshing change in pace for me but I have lived with this for a whole lot longer than you have and believe me when I say being okay with you having gay sex on the side to save your life is _completely_ different to being happy for you to bring your big, sparkly gay boyfriend to the family home."

Kris's smile is gone in a heartbeat, he pushes Adam's hands off his shoulders and steps back so Adam can't reach out again. "They're my family, not yours. I think I'd know."

"Christian, Arkansas." Adam snorts. "I know their type."

Adam actually flinches back a little from the look on Kris's face, sure - for a moment - that he's about the get punched. But Kris takes a deep breath and slowly stretches his fingers out of fists. "It's nice to know ten years of being an out-and-proud gay man hasn't stopped you judging people based on random stereotypes."

"You didn't tell them."

"Because I was supposed to marry Katy!" Kris throws his hands up, taking half a step forward before deflating all of a sudden and dropping onto one of the sofas. "I was supposed to marry Katy and get a job in business. We would live down the road from where we grew up in a small house with a bit of a garden. Have two-point-five kids to take home at Christmas and I would bring out the guitar on weekends maybe." He shakes his head a little. "It wasn't - you could have been anyone. I couldn't - I didn't know how to say not just that I'm taking a break from Katy, but that the future everyone dreamed off was never going to happen. It wasn't a possibility, wasn't on the horizon."

Adam feels his face going red and has no idea what to do - whether he's allowed to go over and put his arm around Kris's shoulders or if they're not talking or -

Kris rubbed his eyes with one hand and looks up. "Anyway, my mother is completely in favor of me marrying into money. Though she still wants grandchildren, so we may have to adopt."

At that moment Lane comes in and there is apparently no way Adam can take time out of his publicity to visit _'The Back End of Beyond'_ but she is happy enough with Kris going home for a few days as long as there is no abstinence between them for the duration. "I mean it," she says, glaring from one to the other. "Phone sex every night. You are both staying healthy if it kills me."

They should never have put Lane in touch with their doctors.

 _'Bassist Tommy Joe Ratliff is shunted to the side of the stage in Adam Lambert's Glamnation tour in favour of a Southern twink with a pretty smile and no talent to speak of. The interloper - Adam's alleged boyfriend Kris Allen - has appeared in all of the latest US shows and it is rumored he will be following Glamnation internationally -'_

Adam doesn't focus on Kris every night, as much as he wants to. Kris is always there - of course - usually sitting on an amp near the front or the steps at the back of the stage. One night he doesn't show up for Fever and Adam worries and frets until he goes into Soaked and instead of Monte, Kris comes out onto the stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder and plays flawlessly.

Kris's label were thrilled with the publicity - though also somewhat peeved that Kris had neglected to mention that he was dating Adam Lambert in their meeting and hasty to point out that he'd already signed with them for one album so he couldn't run off with some major studio while they weren't looking.

Kris just laughed and said he didn't think his album was going to be as huge as they were talking. Adam told him he was an idiot and all of his music was amazing and he had to stop putting himself down all the time and called the record label to ask if there was anything he could do to improve Kris's chances of success.

He thought the PR woman on the other end of the line might have fainted for a moment but she comes back to say nothing, really, he's doing enough.

That night Adam is signing fan's autographs when Kris walks by behind him - Monte's second best acoustic slung over one shoulder. The girls in front of Adam go crazy, screaming his name so loudly he actually turns around in surprise, his brow creasing as if to say _'Who, me?'_

Adam beckons him over, pull Kris against his side and kissing him lightly. A moment later he wishes he had left his earplugs in, but it's completely worth it for the small smile on Kris's lips when he pulls away. Adam wants to - he doesn't even know - he wants to make sure Kris keeps smiling.

"Play something!" one of the girls screams, and the chant is instantly taken up by the crowd. "Play, play, play!"

Adam takes a step backwards so Kris is in the limelight. "Go on," he urges. "Don't think I don't know how many songs you have for that damn album by now."

Kris freezes up for half a moment, then relaxes and swings the guitar around to the front. "Okay," he says, the southern drawl more pronounced as he kicks a box into position and stands on it like a stage. "But y'all gotta help me out, okay?" He hits a few chords thoughtfully. "Now, here's what I want you to sing."

Adam spends the next five minutes singing nothing but 'Yeah' and he doesn't care at all. Kris's song is bouncy and fun and the crowd lap it up, singing and dancing and calling his name.

 _This is what I want for you,_ Adam thinks - surprising himself with the force of it. _This is what you deserve._

Kris finishes on a high, kisses two girls on the cheeks then lets Adam tug him back to the bus and peel the tight jeans off for the third time.

 _'Anyone who saw Adam Lambert's visually stunning Glamnation tour prior to the New Orleans show may be forgiven for dismissing my claims that it lacked heart. It's true - Lambert was often fantastic and showed skill in working the crowd and I myself gave him a glowing review._

 _However, anyone at either of the Atlanta shows will agree that bringing the hitherto unknown Kris Allen on stage restored a heart that had previously been missing from the spectacle. Having a clear focus brought a new heart to classics such as_ Whataya Want From Me _and the new boy - Kris Allen - seems to inspire a spontaneity in our Idol that helps him show more passion in the rigorously choreographed show._

 _As to those who say Kris was hired in or picked up off the streets, either we were looking at a very different Adam Lambert or you have never been in love.'_

Kris leans over his shoulder. "Reading your reviews, Adam, I wouldn't call that very rock star."

Adam spins around and tugs Kris into his lap without hesitation. "How was the journey? How was home? Are you okay, did anyone hurt you? Did you miss me?"

Kris laughs and lets himself be pulled into a long kiss before replying. "The journey was long, home was the same as always, I am fine but you worry too much and I missed you in the very brief periods that I wasn't on the phone with you or receiving one of your constant texts." He hesitates. "I went to church."

Adam is all set to be concerned and terrified, but Kris is still smiling. "How was it?"

"A bit of muttering, a few odd looks but I think it was more 'wasn't he on the news' than 'burn the heretic.'" He reaches over Adam's shoulder to shut the laptop. "So, are they all saying how terrible it is that you've let some random Southern boy share a stage with the Glaminator?"

"If you spent the last two days of your holiday coming up with 'witty' puns, I think I will have to kill you. Or me. Or, well, for it to work I'd have to kill both of us. It would be for the greater good."

"Oh Adam," Kris shakes his head sadly. "So Glamatic."

*

"I'm falling in love with him." He's supposed to be packing for Singapore and Japan but instead he's sitting in the office of Kris's bond councillor - some woman called Maddy who is staring at him with her mouth slightly open and doesn't seem able to speak. "Is that normal?"

She blinks a few times and reshuffles her papers with an air of panic. "I don't - I'm not sure what - You're Kris Allen's bond? Kristopher Allen, about this high, Southern accent?"

"Drop dead gorgeous, amazing singer, songwriter, has a laugh that makes you happier just for hearing it. Fucking beautiful and perfect and I don't - I've only ever been in love with one person and it wasn't like this. So would it be normal, falling in love with him?"

Maddy swallows and looks up from her papers with visible effort. One of Adam's hands is resting on the desk and she reaches out to take it, apparently following some inner script that doesn't allow for Adam's rings or nail polish. "Mr. Lambert, there is nothing - _nothing -_ normal about your situation. Normal would have loved him beforehand. I can tell you that there are no reports of the bond influencing a person's feelings, it's more likely that proximity to Mr. Allen has -" She pauses. "Look, your bond is ridiculous, the two of you were idiots for a stupidly long time and you may well have fucked up your lives so forgive me if I speak plainly. Kris is an amazing guy, you like him and you share interests. You clearly have sexual compatibility or the bond wouldn't have taken. Is it really that unlikely that you would fall in love with him?"

It's the last thing Adam wants to hear, but he can't deny that it's probably true. In fact, it's kind of pathetic to know that he had to ask a professional to tell him if he's in love (there is no _way_ he is talking to Brad about this). "But I can't - he has a girl and as soon as we find a way to break this without anyone dying he's going to get back with her, go home, have children and live a long happy life that I won't be a part of." He breaks off. "I - I need to be able to let him go."

Maddy sighs. "Well, maybe you'll get lucky and breaking the bond without Kris dying will remain impossible."

"Because loving someone who'll follow me everywhere but never love me back is so much better."

"Maybe you should tell him how you feel."

Adam shakes his head. Bad idea, very bad idea. "I saved his _life._ The moment I say something like that he'll feel indebted to me even more and he'll pretend - oh - whatever to try and make me happy and to try and make this easier on me and I won't make him do that. I'm not that guy."

"I'm not here to give you advice on your love life, Adam." She pats his hand in what is clearly meant to be a reassuring way. "You're going to have to work this one out on your own."

*

Adam works it out on the plane to Japan to the Philippines. It's nice not to be hiding Kris, nice to bring him into first class on the way to Singapore because it means they can curl up together to watch _Toy Story 3_ on the airplane screens. Adam had wanted one of the rom-coms, but Kris argued like a motherfucker and eventually they managed to settle on this one which Adam hasn't seen but it's about toys so he assumes it will be a light hearted romp with children and flowers and puppies.

Naturally, Kris falls asleep against Adam's chest within the first half hour and sleeps right through until Adam wakes him up from crying. There is _backstabbing_ and _betrayal_ and what if they die, and Adam is going to have nightmares about this for weeks - he suddenly can't remember what happened to all his shit when he left home but what if it was _donated._ What if he _threw it away?_

Kris laughs - laughs! While the toys are falling into the fires of _death_ , oh God - and Adam cannot be in love with him no way. He's a terrible heartless person who does not deserve the love of anyone.

"Stop pouting."

A terrible, heartless, psychic person. "You're not even looking at me."

Kris tilts his head up to kiss Adam's jaw. "I'm in your mind, remember."

The toys have a miraculous escape and there is a happy ending that nevertheless leaves Adam weeping into Kris's shoulder for a good half hour and offering signed anything to the cabin crew for promises that they will never mention this ever again.

Kris is still laughing when they walk off the plane and through customs, sliding out his phone to call Katy the moment they're past the last 'no cell phones' sign. Adam has to find a bathroom to redo his make up (From scratch!) And his eyes are all red, his eyeliner is going to look terrible during the show because it won't have had enough time to settle. "I am going to look terrible," he informs the mirror and Kris, who followed him in. "The people will laugh at me and my career will be over forever, I will be reduced to being a pole dancer in Vegas and you will have to be my pole because we will both be destitute."

Kris looks over at him. "I recorded three songs in Tokyo. You can be destitute on your own, don't go dragging my album down with you." He holds the phone back up to his ear. "No, just Adam being a whiny bitch as usual."

"You don't care about my pain." Adam looks back in the mirror and focuses on getting his eyeliner just right, smudged and perfect and just about hiding how red his eyes are. "There will be cameras outside. There should be a rule about no sad movies before cameras. In fact, a new Glamnation law is no sad movies _ever._ "

"Yeah, I'll call you in a few days. Love you too." He hangs up and looks over at Adam. "How many times do I have to tell you there are no Glamnation laws? Also, you cry at every film."

"You have a heart of stone and it's my tour so what I say goes."

Kris steps closer to him, reaching up to smudge Adam's eyeliner with one finger. "What if I say sex in the limo?"

Adam would like to think of himself as very controlled, but every man has a breaking point and everyone's breaking point would be Kris Allen, still rumpled with faint make-up shadows around his eyes from Tokyo. "It's my tour," Adam says. "So what you say goes."

They have nothing in common, he thinks as Kris tugs him through the airport. Adam cries at movies, Kris doesn't. Kris believes in God, Adam believes in astrology. They like different music, their albums will be polar opposites when Kris's comes out. Kris likes plaid shirts and Adam likes leather vests. Adam likes boys and Kris likes girls.

He likes Katy. He says 'Loveyou' to her and never to Adam. Adam has never said it to him - he's too scared and surely that means he doesn't mean it.

They're incompatible. There's no love here.

He just has to remember that.

*

It's easy enough. The shows slow down once they leave the US - though of course the interviews, photo shoots and rehearsals continue at breakneck pace - and somehow Kris almost becomes busier than Adam. Whenever they arrive in a city, Lane shows up with a list of all the times she's managed to book Kris into a local studio. Adam never seems to have a full band at sound check because Monte is looking over Kris's musical arrangements or LP is doing the drum track or Tommy leant Kris his bass guitar and then had to go to keep an eye on it.

Adam naps between interviews and adds _'Kris'_ to the list of stupid things interviewers ask him about that have nothing to do with the music. He has to download a .pdf of their relationship chart onto his blackberry and keeps pretending to get texts mid-interview so he can check where they met or what they said or how many dates they've been on.

He spends a lot of time laughing and saying, "Luck," or "I really couldn't believe it," when people ask why there were no paparazzi photos of them together.

There are ten 'free' days after the Hawaii shows and they get to fly back to the US for most of them. Of course, Adam doesn't get to enjoy this because he has to cart around the country doing radio shows and photo shoots and missing Kris who spends the whole time holed up in Silver Dragon's Texas studios. He calls Adam every night full of bounce talking about remixing the songs off the CD and the producers they've got him working with and the studio that's been booked in Helsinki for him to get into the moment they fly out.

"It's really coming together," he says. "I mean, the songs are almost writing themselves."

Adam is tired, his head hurts and he's trying to think about Kris's cock rather than his smile or his music because it's just the bond, it's just sex. "So Kris, what are you wearing?"

There's a short silence. "I'll just go somewhere more private."

"You do that, baby."

Adam visits Texas every couple of days to drag Kris back to his hotel room and wants keep him there forever but only ever manages about twelve hours before Kris has to get back in the studio and Adam has to fly to the backend of nowhere. Or, you know, LA but Kris isn't there so Adam doesn't actually care.

Adam never thought he'd miss sex on Glamnation - sex in a shitty bunk on a shitty moving bus always uncomfortable, cut short and earning them dirty looks in the morning from everyone else - but he hates not being with Kris all the time, not waking up and knowing Kris is next to him.

He lies awake at night wishing Kris was there - just for sex, of course, just to get rid of the headache because it's not like Adam misses that stupid smile or Kris singing in a low voice or the arc of his eyebrows as he says something completely ridiculous. He misses Kris more than he ever thought he would and it's a relief when they meet at the airport to fly to Helsinki because Adam can wrap his arms tight around Kris and -

And it's not love. It just won't hurt anymore, and that's good.

*

Helsinki is cold as fuck. The studio Kris is working in is apparently colder than the outside world because Adam goes to his third interview in a massive fucking coat and still spends the whole time shivering to the point that he has to go into a bathroom and call Kris. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

"Seriously, Adam, it's been five hours. Do you have a problem? Are you sex deprived?"

"I'm cold, Kris. Get your mind out of the gutter and put more clothes on."

"I never thought I would hear that from you, Lambert."

But after Adam hangs up, he gets warmer and he can sit through the rest of the interview, talk about how the tour is going and how he hopes the album will do well in Finland and - yes - he has a boyfriend who he likes very much with but really could they get back to the music.

"Do you love him?"

"No," Adam says; before he can think, before he can remember what mindset he's supposed to be in because this is the mantra he's been repeating for weeks now. The interviewer looks shocked, which is enough to remind Adam that - fuck - he's supposed to be madly in love and his record deal is on the line _again_ and he's fucking up as always. "I mean, I hate jinxing relationships - you know? We have awesome chemistry and he's honestly the greatest guy ever but I've been heartbroken before and it's made me hesitant, if you know what I mean. Love is such a... I wouldn't give him up for anything." He pulls out a winning smile. "Ask me again next time I'm here."

The woman smiles, winks at him and moves onto asking how he likes Helsinki and what kind of show he's planning to do. Adam leaves the interview an hour later to find Lane waiting in his dressing room. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"I know," Adam says, snatching the wipes to get some of the excess of makeup off his face. "I should've said yes. It's just an interview, right?"

Lane takes her iPhone out of her bag, stares at it for a moment, and puts it back. "Have you considered - if you can't break the bond - what you're going to do?"

Adam doesn't look at her. "It's settling," he lies. "If we can't break it, soon we'll be able to ignore it."

"Okay." She brightens a little. "That's good. Well, you're free for the rest of the evening. There's a club here, the band are going out tonight. Do you want to go with them?"

Adam glances at his watch and sees it's barely early evening. "Can I go see Kris at the studio first?" He can make a decision after that. Maybe a quick round in the studio bathrooms will mean he can go out dancing - God he misses dancing - without needing Kris too much.

Or Kris could come with him, Kris in his eyeliner under the club lights, Kris's tight body pressed against Adam's with no microphones or distractions and maybe a seedy back room with fluorescent lighting and eye shadow smudged on Kris's cheek.

"Do you want me to call the driver," Lane asks. "Or should I just give you a moment alone?"

*

The studio is small and cold as ice but the doorman doesn't seem to care at all who he lets in because Adam just has to wonder up and be like. "Kris Allen?" for the door to buzz open.

There are a couple of recording areas, but music is only coming from one of them so Adam peers through the small window in the door. Tommy is sitting on a spinning chair, his feet resting on what is possibly a very important piece of equipment with all sorts of buttons and lights on. Kris is in the recording booth, his guitar resting against the wall and the microphone hanging down before him.

"More passion," Tommy says into the intercom. "Come on, Kristopher, really _feel_ it."

Kris laughs and sticks his middle finger up. "Monte went home because we are nearly done and he wasn't needed, you do not need to sit there copying him."

"But I feel lost without our fearless leader." Tommy reaches out to flick some buttons. "Again from the top."

"If you start making faces at me again, I swear to god -"

"Would I do such a thing?"

Kris snorts the reaches for the microphone and turns it around so he can stand with his back to Tommy. "Okay, I'm good." He hesitates. "Well, now I'm staring at a wall and picturing you making faces. This isn't quite the mind set I had in mind for this one."

"Adam's going clubbing with us tonight," Tommy says. "We're getting a private booth in a gay bar and all the young men of Helsinki are going to come out to get a piece of hot glam action." He reaches for the console. "Sing it, fucker."

Adam reaches for the door as soon as Tommy releases the intercom button. Music is starting already, echoing around the booth, and inside Kris is reaching for the microphone stand with both hands. Adam almost wishes he could see Kris's face, but he also doesn't want Kris to know he's here. "What song is it?" he asks Tommy. "One of the ones off the EP?"

Tommy shakes his head. "I think - maybe you should come back later," he starts to say, but is interrupted by Kris starting to sing.

" _I see you boy walking over here, can't look away."_ The song is strange, as though a decision has been made to make it half a beat slower than would've been naturally, giving it a strangely mournful air which is only enhanced by the crooning of Kris's voice. _"I see you left a trail of broken hearts, on your way to me."_

One of the amazing things about Kris's EP was the way you could hear every slight hitch of his breath that mean his whole soul was in the music. Kris sings this song as though his heart is breaking. _"I try not to let it show, but it's time that you know._

 _You break me down, every time you make a move,_

 _Without a sound, boy you make me come unglued_

 _And I don't know what you did to me_

 _And I don't care what the doctors say_

 _Cause no matter what I do, I can't stay away from you."_ Kris is holding the microphone tightly in both hands and he turns apparently without thinking. His eyes are tight closed, his face up close to the microphone. Twisted up, desperate, completely free of all the traces of make up and so fucking beautiful that Adam wants to cry.

He pushes out of the room and drops down in the corridor, thinking about Kris's eyes and his hands and the sideways look he always gives Adam when people expect him to be so much more uptight than he is. He thinks about all the fantasies he's had, all the things he has ever wanted to do to Kris and realizes he would happily give them all up for a hug and a smile every single day.

It turns out deciding you're not in love and not being in love are two very different things.

Tommy crouches down beside him. "Adam? Adam, are you okay?"

No. No he's really not. The boy he is totally in fucking love with is standing in that room singing about how much it sucks that he's forced to stay with Adam all the time and Adam can't tell him, can't stop sleeping with him, can't pretend he doesn't know that Kris is still in love with Katy.

"I need to be drunk."

*

Getting drunk doesn't help because Kris is still at the studio or on the bus or whatever completely sober. Adam thinks about texting him but upon opening the text box he finds all he wants to write is 'I _love you, don't leave me,'_ and has to force Tommy to take his phone for the rest of the evening.

Tommy disappears shortly after and someone must have got in touch with Kris because Adam is starting to get pleasantly tipsy and the drinks keep coming and at some point with them comes a blond guy who must be famous enough for Adam to date, since he's been allowed past the Velvet Ropes of Famousness.

"Hey," he says with an accent that is nowhere near as adorable as a Southern drawl but fucking ace nonetheless. "We should get shots in every color of the rainbow."

Whoever he is, he is clearly just as awesome as his accent. "We are possibly soul mates," Adam says.

Pretty-Finnish-Guy laughs and waves a waiter over. "We need colors," he says. "I want to drink a fucking rainbow. No, I want to drink a fucking double rainbow."

Adam laughs. "I want to double fuck a rainbow."

Pretty-Finnish-Guy leans against him, warm and _pretty_ and his accent sounds like it would taste delicious. "Dude," he says. "I want to fuck a leprechaun."

Adam bursts out laughing and Pretty-Finnish-Guy tries to explain that he didn't mean a crazy short bastard in green shit; just, like, someone with motherfucking _magic_ and a pot of _gold_ and somewhere along the way Adam learns that his name is Sauli and he was on some TV show and they're astrologically compatible (which is totally Sauli's deduction, not Adam's, so they both believe in astrology which is more than Adam can say for a mysterious someone else who he cannot possibly be in love with ever.)

They do a double rainbow, then a triple rainbow, and then Sauli tugs him out onto the dance floor where no one asks for his autograph or for a photo because this is Finland and he can just grind against pretty boys with awesome accents to fantastic music.

They kiss under the disco ball like teenage prom dates in every respect except that Sauli's hand is down the back of Adam's pants. Sauli's mouth opens and his hair is soft and Adam's cock twitches a little.

Which is of course the moment a wave of pain crashes through Adam's head, burning its way down his body and ¬- _fuck fuck fuck -_ he's aching, he's burning, he's dropping to his knees in the middle of the dance floor and somewhere he can hear Kris crying.

Kris.

He lifts his head to see Sauli leaning over him all concern and distractingly stunning blondness. "Adam? Adam?" Then he's pushed aside by Tommy, hard enough that he actually goes sprawling to the dance floor and all Adam can see is Tommy's hair.

"You need to get back to the hotel?" Tommy says, and it's barely a question but Adam nods anyway and lets Tommy pull him to his feet, leans heavily on Tommy's arm.

Tommy thrusts Adam's phone into his hands when they reach the limo. Adam stares at it for a long moment, completely at a loss for what to do, until Tommy leans over and finds Kris's number.

Kris hangs up on him, sending another stab of pain through his head. Tommy takes the phone back off him. "What was this about, Adam? What are you so desperate to prove?"

"I'm not in love with him," Adam says, falling sideways so his head rests in Tommy's lap. "I'm not."

Tommy sighs and ruffles his hair with one hand. "You're an idiot."

*

Kris is still awake, sitting on the big double bed with all the tiny bottles from the hotel mini bar lying empty around him. His guitar is resting in his lap and it's actually his which means Adam isn't allowed to break it by pushing Kris back and kissing him.

"I didn't think you'd be back tonight," Kris says to his guitar, and Adam almost kisses him right then just to stop himself saying something stupid like _'I will always come back to you.'_

"I don't - I wasn't," Adam swallows and lets the door swing closed. "My head, it felt like I'd been gone for a month only all at once. I felt you -" he breaks off. The light is poor and Kris is looking in the wrong direction, Adam can't tell if he's been crying.

"Oh." Kris wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, but it could easily just be tiredness. "That might have been my reaction, sorry, I was just tired and - and jumpy, I guess." He drums his fingers against the guitar.

"It's gone away now -" Adam starts, at the same moment as Kris says "Was it Tommy?"

Adam breaks off, completely losing his train of thought, and he could swear Kris's shadowed cheeks go slightly pink. Kris strikes a hard angry chord. "Sorry," he mutters. "I didn't mean - he felt blond."

It's Adam's turn to blush. He hadn't even considered that, though it makes sense. If Kris feels it whenever he masturbates, surely he would feel it whenever Adam makes out with someone else. "No," Adam says, before Kris can continue. "No, no way. Tommy's straight and I would never - I would _never_."

"Oh." Kris strums another chord lightly. "Oh, okay. I just thought - so it wasn't Tommy you slept with before?" His voice is vibrating like the guitar strings, so close to steady but off enough that it's clear something is wrong. "Because he felt blond too and I thought - do you just have a hardcore thing for blonds?"

If Adam closes his eyes he can just about remember a youthful face, a splash of blonde hair and a mistake in a back alley. Kris felt that. Of course Kris felt that. Of course he knew that while he was sitting alone in a house writing songs about Katy and his life falling apart, Adam was fucking his way across the country. "It was just a fan," he says - feeling terrible for saying it because no one should be 'just a fan' and Adam had always promised himself he'd be better than that.

"Oh," Kris says, again, and Adam is really starting to hate the low, accepting sound. "And tonight, was that just another fan?"

Adam tries to remember if Sauli had ever mentioned being a fan. "No," he says. "Well, maybe. I don't know. He was on TV here, I think maybe his PR wanted to set him up with me. He was nice, but he wasn't -" Adam forcibly cuts himself off before he can say 'you'. "I don't cheat on my boyfriends, Kris."

Kris somehow turns a sob into a rough laugh. "Yeah? Well, I don't have boyfriends and this, this is just an arrangement and I said you could sleep around. I said it and I meant it so you should go, call him, have an actual relationship." His voice twangs and he sounds one step away from breaking. "I'm not good enough for you, I know that."

"Kris -" Adam starts, reaching out to touch Kris as lightly as possibly on the shoulder.

Kris shrugs him off, turning his face away so Adam won't see. "I don't care," he says. "Neither of us wanted this and we're not - we're not good together but we don't have a choice and that's all it is. I'll get better, I'll get used to it and there won't be any more problems. We should just stop pretending like we could ever be friends."

Adam lets his hand fall to his side but when he moves forward to kiss Kris lightly on the cheek, Kris doesn't pull away. "I'm going to take a shower."

Kris nods, and Adam heads into the bathroom. He turns the shower on full but doesn't stand in it, just presses his ear against the bathroom door and listens to Kris sing the song from the studio as though his heart is being torn in two.

*

Adam does shower, and he brushes his teeth so his mouth doesn't taste of alcohol or Sauli or fucking everything up. Then he leaves the shower running and sits on the toilet to call Cassidy.

Cass answers on the third ring, sounding far too happy for 3am in the morning and of course it takes Adam half a minute to remember that it probably isn't 3am in LA and he's still drunk or hung over or something. "Adam? Hello? Did you want something or are you just calling to hear my beautiful voice?"

"I'm in love with him," Adam says, praying the shower is loud enough that Kris can't hear him. "And he has a song about how much he hates me and it's beautiful and I kissed someone else and he thinks he's worthless and I don't know what to do." The tiles on the wall are deliciously cold against his forehead, and if anyone had told him he'd want cooling down in _Helsinki_ he would have laughed them out of the room.

Cassidy is silent for a moment as he processes exactly how shit Adam's life is. "Who did you kiss?" he asks, eventually.

"Sauli Can't-remember-his-surname," Adam hits his head against the wall a few times in case that makes his headache better. It doesn't. "About Kris's height, blond, Finnish accent."

"I'm checking TMZ, there's nothing yet. Why did you kiss him?"

Adam shakes his head to try and say _'I don't know'_ or 'He _was there'_ or _'I didn't know what else to do,'_ except of course Cass can't see him so he has to try and vocalise something. He tries to think back to the lights and the club and Sauli with his smile and his blue shots which tasted of raspberries. "Because he makes sense," Adam says eventually. "Because we have things in common and he likes boys and falling for him would make sense."

"But you're not falling for him," Cass clarifies. "You're falling for Kris."

Adam closes his eyes, doesn't listen to Kris strumming his guitar in the other room and doesn't think about Kris's face or his fingers. "He's - I don't know what it is about him. Sometimes I think he's everything I could ever want, you know? If I had him, life would be a party and whatever the fuck else it is I sing about but he doesn't love me, he loves Katy and she loves him and he said I could sleep with Sauli."

There is a long silence on the line.

" _Did_ you sleep with Sauli?" Cass asks, as though somewhat scared of the answer.

"Of course I didn't but he shouldn't be offering and he only said that because he thinks he isn't good enough for me, which is ridiculous because he deserves so much more and I don't know why he doesn't seem to realize that."

"Maybe he was just being modest. You wouldn't know this, because you live in L.A., but there are places where people don't have to spend their whole time bigging themselves up and they actually talk themselves down to seem friendlier. I know, it's crazy."

Adam manages a weak laugh. "It's not like that. I know everyone says they're not good enough because they want to seem humble or whatever but I'm in his head and he actually believes it. How can he believe it? He must have heard himself sing, must have looked in a fucking mirror. His list of charitable deeds is about a million times longer than fucking Bono's so tell me how the fuck is that _not good enough_."

Cassidy sighs. "Look at this from his perspective," he says, very slowly as though if he says the wrong thing Adam will explode. "His first girlfriend was the girl next door, they were best friends and he told you himself that it never really seemed like there were other options. His first boyfriend has no choice but to stay with him or let him die, which is not something anyone really wants on their conscience."

"It's not about my _conscience_ it's about people having the right to live."

"Whatever. My point is, neither of these relationships were based on him being a good guy, they were based on him being in the right place at the right time. He's humble anyway, quiet enough that people don't feel the need to shower him with compliments. Not everyone has as big an ego as you, Adam."

Adam's anger ebbs away, though his frustration remains because it's so _ridiculous_ and he silently adds _'Never made him feel needed, talented or beautiful'_ to his list of things he hates about Katy.

Then he remembers that he's guilty of the exact same thing, and if he hadn't had the bond he wouldn't have known it. "I can't tell him I love him, he would only try to love me back and I'm not going to force him into that." He rests his head in his hands. "So what do I do now?"

Cassidy hesitates. "You have to make him feel like he's wanted," he offers. "Like even if there was no bond in place you might have asked him on a date, just because he's Kris. Because he's handsome, talented and he deserves his name in lights."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know," Cass admits. "But if you love him, you have to find a way." He hangs up and Adam is left sitting on the toilet seat staring at his phone.

 _If you love him._

"I love him so fucking much."


	7. Chapter 7

Kris leaves the hotel at 6am without sleeping a wink. Adam came to bed at four; hesitantly touched Kris's shoulders and took the guitar from his lap to place it on a chair across the room. "I'm not going to sleep with anyone else," he said, pushing Kris's shirt down to kiss his shoulders and the back of his neck. "I'm not going to touch anyone else. I made a mistake and I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, but it's just you and me now. I promise."

"I don't care," Kris said - again.

Adam just tugged him closer and buried his face in Kris's neck. "I do."

The sex felt as good as it always did, which just seemed like cheating. Kris lay in Adam's arms until Adam fell asleep and then he slipped out of the bed and picked up his guitar. He sat in the hallway, playing chords and trying to find the song that wanted to be written, until he got a text from his driver to say the car was outside ready to go to the studio.

The recording booth is empty, which isn't really a problem. He layers the final attempt at recording a vocal for _Can't Stay Away_ over the music because there is no way it isn't the right one and saves the track for Monte to look at later then starts a new project and steps into the booth.

*

Monte shows up in the early afternoon and doesn't comment on the redness of Kris's eyes or the fact that he is sleeping in the corner of the studio, wrapped around his guitar like it's a teddy bear. He just shakes Kris awake and passes him a tuna sandwich still in its wrapping.

"I think _Can't Stay Away_ is finished," he says. "It sounds good - sadder than I thought it would, but still good."

Kris vaguely remembers the bouncy song he was originally thinking of writing, but can't quite recall why he ever thought it would be a good subject for a happy tune. "How many is that?"

"Seven. Well, eight if you count Before We Come Undone, but I thought you wanted to rerecord the vocals for that one." He taps his fingers against the floor. "You said you had a couple more written, the studio wants at least eleven. We could get some writers in, if you want?"

Kris has Lifetime and From the Ashes but he isn't sure if he can sing either of them right now and the song he's been working on isn't the kind of song he wants to premier in front of Adam's lead guitarist and best friend. "I don't think so." He picks up his guitar. "Do you want to collaborate on something crazy?"

Monte raises his eyebrows. "Something crazy?"

Kris picks up his guitar and starts paying something. " _Shut that door and keep that devil out,"_ he sings, mostly just because he can and because Monte is heading out to get his guitar and it's good to just _play_ for a change, without trying to achieve anything. _"Oh, shut that door and keep that devil out."_

They complete and record the song in an afternoon, texting LP at three so that he'll come over to provide the drum track and Tommy at five to borrow his bass guitar. Naturally Tommy comes with it and ends up doing the bass line himself.

By seven Kris is lounging in the cramped recording booth with Adam's entire band listening to the most ridiculously awesome song over the studio's speaker system and he feels better - he feels good for the first time in a while.

"Is this going on your album?" Monte asks, as Tommy pulls his iPhone out of his pocket and switches it on. "Because it's completely different to everything else, but it would be a crime not to put it out there."

Kris reaches for his own cell wondering how many times Adam has texted him today. "A bonus track, maybe," he says, holding down the on switch. "Or an iTunes download. I guess I should talk to the label and see what they -"

"Kris," Tommy interrupts, holding his phone at arm's length as though it could blow up in his face at any moment. "Kris, put your phone down. Don't look at it."

Kris looks. He has about fifty texts and voice message from what seems like everyone he knows. He opens the one from Katy - scrolling past texts from his parents, Brad and Cassidy - to read: _'so sorry, bb. If u want 2 tlk, I'm here. Call me. *hug* xxk,'_ and his heart drops a little.

Monte has crossed over to Tommy and is reading whatever Kris isn't allowed to see, his mouth shaping silent swear words that get more and more creative the further he gets. "Have you talked to Adam?" he asks Tommy when he's done.

"I haven't done anything," Tommy says, reaching for his bass and throwing it into its case. "I have about a gazillion texts from Lane telling us to get back right now but nothing from Adam. This should _not_ have made the news, who was on security in the club? We do not _need_ this." He looks up. "Kris, you need to stay calm."

"There's a link to an interview," Monte says, picking up Tommy's discarded phone.

"Show me," Kris says, taking half a step closer.

Monte presses the phone screen against his chest. "I don't think - maybe you should call Adam and -" he breaks off as Kris grabs his best guitar off its stand and holds it by the neck, ready to swing into the wall. "Kris, Kris don't, you're being irrational and -"

Kris holds out his free hand. "Give me the phone."

Monte doesn't hesitate, just thrusts the device into Kris's palm and takes the guitar, holding it carefully in both hands as Tommy turns to hit his head hard against the wall.

The interview is loading, Kris doesn't hesitate to press play. Adam is sitting on a sofa opposite an older man with a bald head and a thick black beard. They've clearly just been talking about the tour because Adam is smiling and still gesturing wildly with both hands.

Someone in black creeps onto the stage and pushes an iPad into the interviewer's hands, muttering something into his ear. The man looks down at the screen and his smile goes somewhat predatory. "We have some breaking news here, I think. Have you seen this?" he pushes the screen forwards into Adam's hand.

"I don't know," Adam says. "Let's take a -" he breaks off the moment he looks down, his smile vanishing in an instant and his mouth dropping open a little. "I don't - what the - "

A small box pops up in the corner of the screen to show what Adam is looking at. It's the front page of TMZ, a photo of Adam and a blond man that can only be Sauli kissing in the middle of a crowded club.

"That's Sauli Koskinen, isn't it?" the interviewer prompts. "Winner of Big Brother in 2007, currently something of a media personality."

Adam is still staring at the screen. "I don't -" he manages faintly. "I guess so, I don't know."

"Is there something happening between you?" The man is actually leaning forwards like a wolf scenting an injured deer. "Will he be going on during the show tonight? Is Sauli Koskinen the next Kristopher Allen?"

Adam thrusts the iPad away, back into the interviewer's lap. "No," he says - far too fiercely. "No, he's -" Adam takes a deep breath and manages to make his eyes a little less wild. "I went out with my band, Kris had a headache so he stayed at the hotel. Sauli and I were talking and we had a lot in common, it was just a bit of fun and he clearly got the wrong impression on the subject of my availability." He pushes his hair back and looks over his shoulder, as though looking for a way out. "It was a minor misunderstanding, we parted on good terms. In fact, he's coming to the show tonight as my guest but we're just friends."

"Does Kris Allen know about this 'misunderstanding'?" the interviewer actually makes air quotes in the air with his fingers. Kris doesn't know him but he hates him a whole lot right now.

Adam drags a hand back through his hair and blinks fiercely. "I'm sorry, but this interview is supposed to be about my tour. Can we please leave my personal life out of it?"

"Of course, of course." The man carefully places the iPad on the chair next to him and reshuffles his notes. "So, will Kris Allen be performing on stage with you tonight?"

Adam flinches as though he's been punched in the stomach and throws a desperate look at something behind the camera. "Kris Allen," he says stiffly. "Is my boyfriend, and the only one I want to be with, but I have never forced him to do anything he didn't want to." He swallows. "Kris will be on stage if he wants to be on stage and this interview is over."

He stands up in one movement and walks off screen without waiting. The interviewer smiles a very unpleasant smile before turning to the camera. _"Further drama on the Glamnation tour. More on this story as it unfolds."_

The screen goes black. Kris reminds himself that it's Tommy's phone rather than his own so he can't actually smash it against the nearest wall.

"He was drunk," Tommy says quickly. "And he broke it off as soon as it started and I think I punched Sauli but the point is he didn't mean to and nothing has to change."

"I know," Kris says, before Tommy can give himself a heart attack. "I knew last night. It's fine. I said it was fine before it even happened." He pushes himself up and snatches his guitar off the floor. "I guess I have to be on stage tonight, to reassure people that I'm not breaking up with him." They have the studio until the buses leave and he's totally in the zone for recording, but sacrifices have to be made.

"So you're not?" Tommy clarifies. "Breaking up with him, you're not?"

Kris shrugs. "You can't break up with someone you were never dating."

*

It takes them two hours to dodge all the photographers and get to the venue, long enough that they don't get backstage until Allie has finished her set and Orianthi is starting to play. Adam's dressing room door is locked so they pile into Allison's where she explains that Adam left for the interview just before Tommy headed to the recording studios. He locked himself in his dressing room when he came back, and hadn't been seen since.

Sauli is ushered into the room five minutes later by a team of bodyguards. He's developing a lovely bruise around his left eye but he doesn't complain, though this could be because he's too busy telling Kris over and over again how sorry he is. "I thought he was single, I swear. I don't cheat and the two of you are adorable. I kissed him, he pulled away as soon as I did it and got out of there. Please, don't break up with him over me."

Kris closes his eyes and wishes he was still in a soundproof recording booth with three inches of glass completely isolating him from the world. "Its fine," he says for the millionth time. "We're not breaking up. You haven't changed anything."

It's lucky Sauli already has a black eye, Kris focuses on that because it helps him ignore the urge to punch Sauli again for daring to touch Adam and kiss Adam and be the perfect guy for Adam.

None of this shows on his face - or at least Sauli doesn't know him well enough to read it because he calms down and cheers up enough to advise Allison on Kris's outfit for the night. Apparently Kris has to play it _'Forgiving, but not too forgiving,'_ which is how he ends up in an actual T-shirt for the first time with what Sauli calls _'casual'_ and Kris calls _'still way too tight'_ jeans over his normal old sneakers.

"It needs something else," he says, as Tommy does his lipstick and a stagehand comes around to say she understands that they've had a hectic day but Adam seriously needs to go on some time in the next five minutes if they want to get anything close to a full concert in. "Currently you look very _'Just wondered in from something else and figured I may as well come say hi,'_ but you need something inherently _Adam_ to show you're still his, no matter what."

Kris touches the tattoo on his wrist, covered by the same plain black fabric wrist band he's been wearing since his face started hitting the news. Adam's no matter what. It's funny, how people apparently doubt the one true aspect of their relationship.

Then Monte leans forward. "I have the perfect thing."

When Kris walks on stage in thick black eyeliner, dark blue eye shadow and Adam's jacket from the idols tour, the crowd almost drowns out the music with their screams.

Kris does his best supremely unconcerned expression and sits on a speaker at the front of the stage. He pretends he isn't angry, pretends he doesn't want to hit Sauli and pretends he's having the time of his life.

Mostly, he pretends he isn't sneaking looks behind to watch Adam smiling.

*

"And finally," Adam says, panting and wiping the sweat off his forehead as he kneels down on the bottom step beside Kris. "Kristopher Allen. My boyfriend from Conway, Arkansas. Christian, musician and oh so beautiful." He leans in for a quick kiss, stroking his fingers through Kris's hair and as he pulls away, dragging his fingertip across the eyeliner beneath Kris's eye. "This is all for you, baby."

He turns and launches into _If I Had You_ , bounding up and down the stage with apparently infinite energy as though he doesn't know that everyone in the audience is discussing his latest interview in every pause or that every one of his fans is refreshing TMZ or Perez somewhere to try and find out if Kris went on stage or not.

Adam finishes on his knees, his face tilted up in the stage lights and his hands closed on Kris's. For a moment the look in his eyes is too serious, for half an instant he seems to be asking Kris for something he isn't supposed to want and Kris shouldn't want to give him.

Kris's heart twists in his stomach and the urge to - not to kiss - to touch, to have, to hold, is almost too strong. He wants to say 'yes' without knowing the question just because whatever Adam wants, Kris wants to follow.

Except he can't and Adam isn't offering anything but a casual smile, the moment passing before Kris can work out what he wants to say. Adam is beaming again, tugging Kris to his feet and slinging an arm around his shoulders to tug him into a bow before running off stage.

"Pick an encore," Adam says, breathless and excited as he presses Kris against the wall and drops kisses across his cheeks and the hollow of his throat. "Anything you want, your wish is my command." One of his hands touches Kris's face, tilting it to a better angle, his thumb scraping the make up on Kris's cheek.

Kris pushes him away, turns his head to the side so he won't start kissing Adam - so he won't try to give an answer to the question Adam isn't asking. "This isn't me."

Adam takes half a step back and frowns, dropping both hands to Kris's waist like he isn't entirely sure how to let go. "What?"

"I'm not -" Kris starts, and doesn't know how to say _'Not beautiful, not what you're looking for, not right'_ so he just reaches up to smudge the eyeliner across his cheek - the dampness in the corner of his eye enough to drag it down. "This isn't me, Adam, this is you." Everything he is on stage is just a mirror reflecting whatever Adam wants to see back at him - the boy Adam would want, if he could just get rid of Kris.

"Baby," Adam says, reaching up to push his hand away and rub the smudge off. "Baby, don't - it could be you." He hesitates, his thumb still resting on Kris's cheek. "You know, this could be your life."

Kris wants to take a step closer and pull him down but he can't. He needs to move back and say that Adam can't just offer something like that because Adam will never mean it the way Kris wants him to. He has no idea what he's asking or what he's suggesting or what Kris would do for - Kris takes the middle ground, pushing Adam's hands away. "And I could keep giving things up until I have nothing left."

He leaves, going into Adam's dressing room because the door locks and there are cleansing wipes ready and waiting on Adam's dressing table. He uses three to get the shit off his face and tugs the sofa in front of the door, wrapping Adam's jacket tighter around him and trying not to think about what that means.

He calls Ruby, because she's supposed to be their doctor which means she should _know_ about things like this and he lives in a constant state of hope that one day a medical professional will give him an answer other than _'Have more sex.'_

"Magician Evans speaking, how may I help you?"

"I don't know what to do," Kris says, then realizes this is no use whatsoever and he might be panicking more than he's been letting himself acknowledge. "It's Kris. Kris Allen. I was hit by a van."

There's a moment's silence as she remembers him. "Kris, hello. Are you still bonded to Adam? Oh, are we okay to do this by phone or are there reporters? Maybe you should come see me."

"I'm in Finland." Someone knocks on the door, Kris lowers his voice... "I need to know—are there emotional side effects involved in bonding? Is there maybe some nice clinical reason why a person might start... _feeling_ things that they know they shouldn't?" He covers the mouth piece with one hand and calls out. "I don't want to talk, can you just go?"

"Kris," says Tommy. "Kris, Adam's really sorry for whatever it was and he's locked himself in the men's bathrooms and no one really knows what's going on because we thought you were okay recording that song and all only now it seems like you're not. If you want to talk... just open the door, Kris, please?"

"The only effect bonding has on a person's emotions is the effect caused by an increase in proximity and sex, it's been clinically proven in numerous trials." Ruby sighs. "I'm sorry if that doesn't help. Disliking Adam would not be an unusual reaction to what you've been put through in any bond-free situation. I would be the first person to admit that there were consent issues and if Adam is taking advantage of you in any way -"

Kris glances at the door then crosses the room and cups his hand around his mouth and the mouthpiece just to make sure no one can possibly over hear. "He says things sometimes, and he doesn't seem to realize what he's offering or he assumes there's no chance I'll say yes. I mean, we both know this will be over as soon as he finds a cure."

"Kris, I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to tell me. Is he pressuring you into something? Is he trying to convince you to keep the bond, not that that isn't a viable course of action if you don't find a safe way to break -"

In Kris's dreams, maybe. "No," Kris says. "It'll break, one way or another. I won't - he won't be stuck with me forever."

"Kris... Are you worried about him?"

Yes. Kris is worried that he's fucking up Adam's career and Adam's relationships and any chance Adam had at a normal life because he can't let go, can't stop hating Sauli and Tommy and fucking strangers.

The doorknob stops shaking, Kris looks at it for a few long moments. "No," he says eventually. "No. I need - can I call you when I've figured it out?"

"Any time, Kris. Any time." She hangs up and Kris stares at the handset and wishes he had the strength to say 'I like him, make it go away'.

"He told me to give you your guitar," Tommy says. "And to say _'There's a host of girls outside hoping for a private Kris Allen concert, go show them who you are_. _'_ " He raps casually on the wood again. "So I'm just going to leave it outside the door and find somewhere else to piss."

*

Adam was right, there is a small crowd around the back of the venue who cheer when Kris steps out, carrying his acoustic in one hand and a small stool in the other. A few have signs saying 'Kradam _'_ , a whole load have ones saying 'Adam' and one group of squealing girls in the back corner have a full banner reading, 'Kris _Allen we love you.'_

"Hi," he says and instantly finds himself wishing he'd left the earplugs in when he cleaned his face for the second time and left Adam's dressing room. "You guys have some pipes, you know that? You should all be standing up here." He drops the stool and stands on it, which just about gives him the ability to see to the edge of the small group. "So my name is Kris Allen and I'm not out here with Adam or affiliated with Jive or whatever else in any way." He swings his guitar around. "I'm with Silver Dragon Records, and if you like what I play tonight, maybe you could check out my album which should be on iTunes around Christmas."

"Play _Wipe It Away_!" someone screams and Kris does a complete double-take. _Brand New Shoes_... these people have actually gone out of their way to find his music - his music which is completely different to Adam's.

"Now, how did you know about that one?"

The girl who shouted blushes. "It's online," she says awkwardly, while her peers turn around. "I - it really meant something to me. I'm not really a Lambert fan but my friend said you sometimes came out and played after gigs so..." she trails off. Kris knows he's staring a little but he can't seem to stop because the idea that someone would choose him over Adam is so ridiculous it's hardly comprehensible.

But he sings _Wipe it Away_ because he was asked and she knows all the words, swaying in time and singing off key. He sings _Alright With Me_ to hear them all singing along and they get into it - even the ones who are clearly just there in the hope Adam will come out. Kris sways and strums his guitar and almost manages to forget about Adam. It's like _Shut That Door_ all over again except with screaming fans instead of blessedly TMZ-ignorant musicians.

Of course Kris cannot be happy for more than ten minutes at a time and by the time he finishes the song, Lane is coming over with her iPhone of doom to tell him that the buses have to leave soon if they want any time in a hotel that night. She does smile and say he can play one more song before he really has to get going because last she saw Adam was talking to Sauli, promising to find him a taxi home.

"This is a new song," Kris says, thinking about how good Sauli looks with Adam and how Kris should be happy that Adam's happy. "In fact, you guys are the first ones to ever hear it so Monte and the Label are going to be completely pissed at me when it's on YouTube in the morning but who cares, right? It's rock and roll."

" _I've never been, the one, for saying the right things -"_

The crowd sway, waving lighters and cell phones and miniature plastic light sabres which - no - Kris has no idea. By the last chorus they're singing along and the few with cameras have actually lowered them, as though they don't want the number of view counts on YouTube that you come with a video of Adam Lambert's boyfriend with tears on his cheeks. Kris finishes the song and drops off his stool to scribble his name across Glamnation tickets, set lists and various body parts.

The girl who has his first album and - she admits as he signs _'To my first fan'_ on her arm - one of the original CDs of his EP bought off eBay for a ridiculous sum gives him a quick tight hug. In the spirit of Glamnation, Kris kisses her on the cheek. "Thank you."

She positively shines. "I'll be waiting for your album."

Adam is no longer in the parking lot when Lane finally grabs Kris's arm and tugs him away from the fans and towards the bus. Kris supposes he's off in a motel with Sauli somewhere and will taxi after them or fly out tomorrow. "It was hardly worth booking rooms for tonight," she says, looking at her watch. "It'll be check in tomorrow by the time we get there."

"I have a fan," Kris tells her.

She snorts, pushing him up the steps. "You think I got you a record contract because you sucked? You think Monte does music arrangements for everyone who crosses his path? You have fans coming out of your ears, you just don't realize because they assume you know and you're too humble to ask."

Kris trips on the step but by the time he's turned around to say _'What?_ ' and 'Are _you on drugs?_ ' and point out that he doesn't make Monte's kind of music, everyone's just helping him as a favour to Adam, Lane has already slammed the bus door shut.

"Norway, here we come!" she calls, and the bus starts moving before Kris gets around to getting himself upright.

The bus is dark - Tommy, Monte and LP presumably having decided to snatch all the sleep they can before the roads wake them up again. Kris isn't at all tired, so he decides to deal with the queue of texts that need 'I _'_ m _fine, still with Adam,'_ replies before someone throws a fit and sell their story to the nearest magazine.

He almost sits on Adam, barely more than a silhouette in the faint glow from the windows. Fortunately, the darkness means Adam can't see Kris either so Kris doesn't have to meet his eyes. "I thought you were with Sauli."

Adam reaches for Kris's guitar, putting it on the seat beside him so he can take Kris's hands. "I heard your song. I don't want you to leave me alone, Kris. I spend half my fucking life alone waiting for the moments when you're beside me."

"You wouldn't be alone. He's cute and Finnish and the two of you seemed to be getting on." He hesitates. "I thought that was why you invited him to the show. I said you could sleep with him, so you brought him over."

"And I said I wouldn't sleep with him." Adam stands up, blocking out most of the light from the window. "I invited him for PR because I can't say he's my friend and then not invite him and I can't snub him after we talked enough that he thought he could kiss me. It's all very complicated but I said I don't cheat and I don't." He places one finger against Kris's lips so Kris doesn't open his mouth to reply. "I know you don't think of this as a relationship but we might end up together for longer than either of us had planned and we can't get through that time with me walking on eggshells and you waiting for me to leave you behind."

Adam is very close and Kris can't see his face but he can feel Adam's body pressed against his and the bunks are close, they could just have sex now and never have conversations just have amazing, life changing sex every moment they were together. That would get rid of any feelings from the equation and Kris would be sure it was just sex, just the bond. It would be easier.

He lowers his head so he can't lean up to kiss Adam. "What are you saying?"

"I want us to date. Tonight, we'll be in Norway and there isn't a show and I'd like to take you to dinner."

That makes more sense. "So the paparazzi see?"

"No." Adam releases Kris's hands, touching his hips instead to pull him closer. "No, Kris, I want us to be able to talk and be at least friends for the rest of our time together. I want you to know that when I say 'I _don't cheat on my_ boyfriends' I mean 'I _don't cheat on you_.'"

It would be stupid to get his hopes up, stupid to think Adam means anything more than what he says: They can be friends, kind of like boyfriends, only without the feelings because Adam doesn't -

It would be stupid to get his hopes up, but Kris has never exactly been sensible and he lied to Ruby, he's worried about Adam and he wants this so badly. "Italian?"

"Whatever you want," Adam says, and kisses him.

They don't make it as far as the bunks.

*

Kris has a pizza and Adam has spaghetti because apparently he's always wanted to try that scene from Lady and the Tramp. (Kris thought this was a date, Adam thinks it's a time for games and stupid movie references. Kris should not find that endearing, but really does.)

The scene turns out to be nowhere near as romantic in real life because they keep getting different strands from each other until right at the end when Adam force feeds Kris half of the very last piece and it breaks leaving them both still a foot away from each other and covered in pasta sauce.

They don't talk about the tour, Kris tells Adam how the album's going and ends up pulling out his iPod so he can play Adam _Shut That Door_ and has to add him to the team of 'I _have no idea why this song is so good but it has to be on the album,_ 'which currently consists of Monte, Tommy, LP and everyone at Kris's label.

Adam tells him to put _Leave You Alone_ on the record, even though he disagrees with the premise and says that if Kris ever does leave him alone, he might cry.

Kris breaks off one of his pizza crusts and holds it up so Adam can lean forward and bite one end. The kiss barely lasts a second because they both have to chew and a mouthful of half eaten pizza base is not romantic in any way.

Kris chews very slowly, Adam's eyes following every movement as he gets more and more bouncy until he eventually says "Just swallow, damn it," and reaches for Kris's tie to tug him into a real kiss.

They walk back together, Kris taking Adam's arm and then laughing for almost the whole walk back about Adam's doomed attempts to turn this into a 'proper first date.' "I don't know if I'm the kind of guy who puts out on a first date, Lambert. You haven't given me flowers and chocolates yet."

Adam kisses him under a lamp post and in the hotel reception and undoes his tie in the elevator with his leg pressed between Kris's thighs and his fingers tugging at Kris's hair. At the doorway to their room he hesitates, then steps back. "I've had a lovely evening."

Kris raises his eyebrows, but leans back against the doorframe because Adam is kind of adorable when he's trying to do something right. "I have also had a wonderful time, good sir."

Adam laughs and tugs him in for one quick peck on the lips. "That was a first date kiss, I'm allowed that kind of kiss on a first date but I think I have to leave you on the doorstep now."

"From the sounds of it, neither of us have any real experience with first dates."

"Brad blew me in a club bathroom," Adam says. "And Drake got me to pose nude for a portrait."

"I think maybe you should do a token walk down the hall towards the lifts after our single first date kiss, and then come back and fuck me like there's no tomorrow."

Adam presses him back against the door, leaning in to kiss him again. "Or I could skip the walk."

Kris reaches behind him to touch his key card to the lock, and the door swings open sending them both tumbling through. "Or you could skip the walk."

As far as first dates go, it seems like one of the better ones.

*

Their second date happens in Germany. Lane says it would be good for them to be seen at the cinema and books them two tickets for a German film but Adam spends the whole day in interviews ("Telling people that I'm still dating you and still friends with Sauli and by the way I have this tour that everyone seems to have forgotten,") and Kris records the rough version of the final track for his album ("Monte says we're finished but I need to redo the vocals on at least three tracks and the piano arrangement of _Need to Know_ needs to change and I'm thinking about making _Can't Stay Away_ more upbeat and -" luckily at that point Adam shut him up with a kiss).

They give the movie tickets to two of the dancers, ordering room service and _How to Train Your Dragon_ from the hotel reception, though Adam insists on spoiling the entire movie for himself by reading the plot on Wikipedia. "I am not crying again, Kris. This is my second date with the perfect guy and I need to give the right impression."

He actually leaves the room, forcing Kris to sit on the bed staring at his watch for what seems like an unreasonably long time before there is eventually a knock at the door and Kris half runs to answer it, only realizing as he tugs it open that it could easily be the room service guy.

It isn't, but it's still surprising enough that Kris almost lets the door swing shut in Adam's face. He catches it at the last minute, and Adam grins. "You like it?"

Kris is fairly sure his mouth is hanging open, he's not sure what that says about his likes or dislikes. Adam must have gone to Tommy's room or - actually, definitely Tommy's, because no one else has that much make-up remover. Adam's face is completely clear of foundation, concealer, even eyeliner. Kris could count every single one of the freckles across his nose and cheeks.

He's also wearing plaid. A black and grey plaid shirt open over a faded Prince T-shirt and his jeans must be loose enough to breathe in. As Kris fails to do anything other than stand in the doorway and gawp, however, his smile fades a little. "I just thought - you were right about having to change for my show, for me. I thought I could change for you." He tugs his hand out from behind his back to reveal a single red rose. "May I please come in?"

Kris takes the rose, running his fingers across the thorny stem. "You didn't have to."

Adam's smile sneaks back onto his face, and he reaches out to brush his fingers across Kris's chin. "I wanted to."

Kris tugs him inside. The food is fantastic, the film is ridiculous, adorable and Adam doesn't cry once. Maybe they snuggle a bit too much for a second date, but to be honest Kris doesn't care at all.

"I'm going to take time off interviews in Paris," Adam says. "Let Allie or Monte do my sound check. We can go up the Eiffel tower and have coffee in a French coffee shop. I want to kiss you under the Arc de Triomphe."

Kris laughs, says "I want to kiss you under your Arc de Triomphe," and ducks away as Adam hits him.

Adam falls asleep before the huge dragon comes on screen, which is probably a good thing. Kris strokes his product-free hair, brushing his fingers from freckle to freckle.

He texts Ruby as the credit sequence rolls. 'I _'_ m _in love with him. Don't worry about me,'_ then throws his phone onto the bedside table and pulls the covers up over him and his boyfriend.

*

Paris morphs from a romantic getaway to a 'congratulations on finishing your album' party. Kris finally caves to the pressure from Adam, his label and Lane (who represents both Adam and his label) by registering a Twitter account in the name _Krisallen4real_ which somehow gets verified because apparently minor label musicians are celebrities if they date the right people.

 _'On top of the tour eiffel with good friends, the man I love and the final edits done on my album. World's looking pretty great right now.'_

He then tweets a picture of a French man holding a baguette with the caption _'Apparently_ @ _adamlambert thought I was talking about him, how_ naive' because it all seemed too serious.

He gets ten thousand followers in the first two hours. When he tweets a photo of Adam standing by the Louvre with a bright red umbrella, the number triples.

Adam buys him an iPhone which he is completely opposed to until Tommy installs Plants vs. Zombies on it at which point he's fully converted and Lane has to hide it away to stop it going on stage with him.

England is awesome because everything is so _close_ and for some reason they have four shows all less than six hours from each other, though it doesn't help that the whole country apparently comes to a complete standstill if there's so much as half an inch of snow on the ground.

But they have a snowball fight in the Glasgow hotel gardens and stumble inside dripping wet with less than an hour until the show starts. Lane shouts at them, then at the hotel until they get access to a dryer and a small mountain of hairdryers which are handed out according to who has to be on stage soonest to the point where Allie and her band are in a car on their way to the venue before Kris has so much as seen a waft of warm air.

Adam, of course, stole three hairdryers and ran upstairs to wash his hair as many times as possible in the time limit. When Kris followed him up to say they had to get in the car now and could he please have access to a towel at least, Adam was still dripping from the neck down but his hair and make-up were perfect, as was the hotel bed that they hadn't yet had a chance to use.

So they're a little late to the show. It's snowing afterwards but Adam pulls out the red umbrella to hold over Kris while he plays in the parking lot and Kris changes the words of _Let it Rain_ to _Let it Snow_ which makes the crowd - half of whom didn't know his name at the start of the night - laugh and promise to buy his album.

"You two are sickeningly cute," Tommy says. "Did you know that?"

*

London - they find out, half an hour before the set starts - is Kris's last show. Silver Dragon have fought tooth and claw to get him a scattering of US dates through December in what they're optimistically calling a 'tour'. It's a ridiculous opportunity for an unknown artist whose album isn't even released until the second week of December, but they've booked small venues and they all sell out in the first weekend.

"I know you wanted to do this on your own," Adam says, as Kris attempts to find 140 characters to sum up how amazing his fans are and how he doesn't want anyone to come to his shows looking for Glamnation mark two. "But I can only stay back so much."

Lane had wanted Adam to tweet about Kris's album, Kris insisted that that would render the whole 'releasing an album on his own through an indie label' thing a waste of time because Adam's fans would buy his album to please Adam and he would never go anywhere.

Everyone seems to regard London as the last night of Glamnation, as though the two LA dates don't exists or the show doesn't count if Kris isn't there - something of an achievement, since he was never supposed to be. They dress Kris up as one of the dancers, dye his hair Allison Iraheta red and the venue staff shrug when Adam asks how graphic he can be.

There is no actual nudity in the show, the drum kit provides just enough cover. Adam kisses three fans then kisses Kris eight times to make up for it. He talks about London for at least five minutes, until Kris has to prise the microphone from his grip. "Maybe if we all wish really hard, Adam will actually sing something."

Adam laughs and tosses his hat at Kris. "You sing something, it's your turn."

Kris opens his mouth to protest but Tommy and Monte leap onto it before he can and he ends up singing _Shut That Door_ to a crowd of frenzied Adam Lambert fans and feeling like he's a terrible person for milking it.

But the crowd are singing along by the end, Adam leans over his shoulder to sing into the same microphone and he doesn't feel that bad, not really. He returns the favour by singing the echoes on _Whataya Want From Me_ and totally ruins Adam's encore when he gets pushed back on stage and _Mad World_ turns into _Making Out With a Backing Track_.

No one seems to mind that much and for the first time in the whole tour Kris stays on stage long enough to bow with the rest of the gang. "Give it up for Kris Allen!" Adam shouts. "He came on this tour on a whim, travelled with us through four continents and god only knows how many countries and I could not imagine taking this journey without him. He would never tell you this, but his album is out on the ninth of October so if you liked what you heard tonight you should check that out. He's beautiful, talented, humble, I was so incredibly lucky to find him and I love him so very much."

He's just saying it for the crowd, but Kris finds he doesn't care. He takes the microphone. "Hey y'all. This experience has been amazing, fantastic, brilliant, the best time of my life. I couldn't have done it without every single person on this stage and more importantly, I wouldn't have wanted to. And Adam," he turns a little and lets himself say it. "Love you too."

Adam kisses him as the lights go out.


	8. Chapter 8

Kris's tour drags on through December and every day he seems to get a call from the label with another venue, another offer, another milestone in album sales. When they're apart, he calls Adam every evening to relay - in tones of mild panic - that so-and-so wants to write a song with him, such-and-such wants to tour with him, he's hit this-and-that record for a debut indie album.

Often he doesn't have to call. Officially, Adam is in L.A. working on his second album and showing up at parties. Unofficially, he is squashing himself into the back of the car Kris's drummer drives to shows in, making out with Kris in the back seat. Cassidy was working on his own projects, but the label had contacts - bands that had fallen apart or never quite made it - and had pulled in a bassist and a guitarist to supplement Kris, his friend Cale and the drummer Adam is apparently still paying for.

Adam has to watch the shows from the wings and wear a baseball cap to hide his face, but it's worth it for the way Kris moves on stage, the way he'll talk casually about anything and everything as though he's friends with every person in the crowd.

It's worth it for the moments Kris stumbles off stage - breathless, sweaty, grinning like a loon - into Adam's arms.

Sometimes Adam checks in with Cass, Brad and Lane to make sure none of them have found a way to break the bond. He knows he shouldn't, but often he puts off calling just in case they have.

It's wrong to force Kris into a relationship, wrong to force him to consider Adam in all decisions, wrong to be in love with him this much. But Adam can't imagine life without him, can't imagine that one day they'll just go their separate ways.

*

They go to Arkansas for Christmas since Adam's family don't really celebrate it. Adam has interviews right up to the day so his plane flies out from LA, Kris's goes from New York directly after his last show. Adam gets in first, and has to sit staring at the arrival's board until his eyes ache waiting for Kris's flight to land at which point he half runs to the gate, bouncing on his toes and scrawling half hearted autographs for the few people who recognise him.

Kris's brother picks them up from the airport, along with Cale who was on Kris's flight and smiles the awkward smile of _'You're sleeping with my best friend'_ at Adam before climbing in the front. Adam has to keep reminding himself that Kris's brother and best friend are in the car so he has to keep his hands to himself even though it's been _days_.

Kris's house is small, but charming and thus falls perfectly in line with everything else relating to Kris. His mum - who insists that Adam call her Kim - beams and frets over Adam, getting him drinks and snacks and telling him she was always his fan on Idol. Adam is less sure about Kris's dad who seems to be avoiding him at first, but later when it's just him and Kris in the kitchen, Neil comes in, gives them both tight hugs, says he's so glad they're happy and actually cries.

"I couldn't tell them it wasn't real," Kris says later, curled up at the head of his bed looking at the band posters on the walls. "They were so happy for me."

Adam sits on the edge of the bed, still not entirely convinced that if he touches Kris the Arkansas police or whatever won't come rushing in to burn him at the stake. "So what did you say to them?"

Kris sniffs and smiles a little, holding out his arms for Adam to crawl into, which Adam does without hesitation. "Well I opened with 'You _remember back in high school when I said I was bi_ ,'" he says, stroking his fingers through Adam's hair. "Followed with 'And _earlier this year when I broke up with_ Katy' then 'You _know how you always said if I didn't start paying attention when I walked places I'd be hit by a truck or something_.' I may have implied that we were dating before the bond happened."

Adam curls an arm around his waist. "You were bi in high school?"

Kris laughs and drops a kiss on Adam's head. "I was confused in high school and I may have made out with a couple of boys behind a couple of bike sheds." He ruffles Adam's hair. "Then I started dating Katy and it was all about her so I let the bi thing slide, let people assume I was straight. If I'm honest, I wasn't completely sure until you."

"Completely sure of what?" Adam asks, hesitant because possibly Kris realized how much gay sex is not his cup of tea and he's going 100% straight the moment the bond breaks.

Kris pushes him lightly. "Completely sure that I was right in high school. Although, if I could do it again I might kiss a few less people. Bad breath, you know."

Adam closes his eyes and allows himself to relax. "Which people?" he asks, almost managing to stay casual.

Kris flicks his ear with one finger. "You're not allowed to be jealous of every guy I've ever kissed."

Adam sticks out his tongue. "Stop me."

Kris grins a Cheshire smile and tugs Adam up, catching Adam's mouth with his.

"You're parents are downstairs," Adam hisses, as Kris tugs both their shirts off.

"And? They're bonded too." Kris pulls him in and kisses him again, tongue dragging through Adam's mouth full of promises. "It's been, like, three _days_."

Which is as good an argument as any. Adam reaches for Kris's jeans.

*

Christmas day somehow manages to be exactly the same as in all the books Adam read as a small child. They wake up early, the tree is surrounded with presents, Kim cooks turkey to make up for the fact that Kris and Adam were touring in Europe over Thanksgiving.

Kim and Neil give Adam a box of chocolates and a CD copy of _Brand New Shoes_ , smiling when he thanks them, "Well we knew there was no way Kris would give it to you of his own accord."

Kris blushes, and Adam doesn't admit that he downloaded it weeks ago. The dinner is delicious and the O'Connells come over after to play stupid games and force Kris and Adam to sing karaoke.

They go up to Kris's room in the evening and Kris gets his guitar out. "I've been working on this," he says. "Happy Christmas."

He sings _Can't Stay Away_ only it's completely different to the album version. Faster, bouncier, and he smiles while he sings. For a moment, as the last chord dies away, Adam almost believes they can make this work. If he tells the truth now, if he says 'I _love_ you' and means it.

"I didn't get you anything," Adam says, hating himself for it.

Kris blushes again, sliding his guitar off his lap. "It's nothing really. I was just - you never liked the album version of that song and neither did I - it doesn't fit with me now. This is better."

'I _love you_.' Adam can almost taste it, hanging off the tip of his tongue and fighting to get out. All the arguments: can't be humiliated, can't pressure Kris into something he doesn't want, can't afford to be heartbroken again echo in the back of his mind but he's going to - he has to -

"Look," Kris says, pulling something out of his back pocket. "Mistletoe."

Adam tugs Kris off the chair and into his lap on the bed, pulling him into a kiss before he can say anything he knows he'll regret.

*

After Christmas is when things start going downhill. Kris seems distant, his kisses are distracted and he pushes Adam off before they actually get anywhere. He disappears from lunch when his phone rings and Adam tries to follow but all he catches is "I've told you a thousand times, I can't -" before Kris notices him listening and heads into the back room, closing the door.

Adam doesn't get him alone again until after dinner but when he goes upstairs, Kris is sitting cross-legged on the bed, tracing the lines of Adam's tattoo back and forth on his wrist. It looks right on Adam - Badass and in line with everything he stands for. On Kris, it looks like a child's painting, throwing colours where they don't belong. Adam moves away from the doorway before Kris sees him, goes downstairs to watch some kind of sport with Neil until he's sure Kris is asleep.

The next morning, Adam wakes up late to an empty bed and when he goes downstairs Kim makes him pancakes and explains that Kris went for a walk with Katy. She looks politely confused when Adam mentions Katy's new boyfriend, so apparently Kris lied about that.

Adam stares out the window and fights the urge to come up with a reason why he suddenly has to run after them and steal Kris away to L.A. where no one else can touch him again. He's better than this. He has to be better than this.

He stabs his fork against the plate and pushes harder against the wall in his head than he ever has before. Kris is walking with Katy, one arm slung over her shoulders and her head resting on his shoulder. They're laughing, Kris's face completely unguarded and he feels so in love.

" _Thank you,_ " Kris says, the words echoing through Kris's ears into Adam's mind.

Katy turns her head to kiss him on the cheek and Adam feels it like a burn. "You don't need my permission to love, Kris."

Adam physically flinches and suddenly Kris's mind is on alert. Adam jerks back into himself, slamming his walls back up at double, triple the strength that they were before.

"Adam -" Kim drops the pan she's scouring into the sink. "Adam, what's wrong?"

Adam keeps throwing up walls and he can feel Kris touching them with nothing but curiosity and a confused 'Adam _?'_

"I have to go." Adam manages to grab his phone on the third try, calling Lane because she's supposed to be able to do anything. "I need a car, a flight home, I'm done here."

"Adam?" Kim tugs her gloves off, dries her arms on a towel as Adam lets the phone fall from his fingers. "What's happened? Has there been an accident? Is your mother okay?"

God, Adam had made the mistake of letting Kim speak to his mother. Another way his and Kris's lives were going to be entwined forever even if they broke this - what if Kris thinks they'll still be friends? What if Kris invites Adam to his wedding?

 _'Adam? I didn't know you could do that. Adam?'_ Kris's voice is weak in his mind, no accusations or 'How _dare you spy on me_ ,' just a mild curiosity. Adam pushes him away, pushes until he can barely feel Kris at all. His skin burns and his head hurts but Kris's voice is silent.

"Everyone's fine." A text comes through and Adam opens it. _'Taxi round front, 2 minutes._ ' "I can't be here anymore. I have a life and contracts and people depending on me." All his bags are upstairs and there isn't time to pack but he has things in L.A. and it's not like there's anything he can't live without.

 _Brand New Shoes_ is in the pile of Christmas presents on the side. Adam snatches it up, sliding it into the pocket of his hoodie and checks his hair in the microwave. "At least stay until Neil wakes up, or until Kris gets back. You need to relax more, Adam. Please, I'm sure Kris would want you to say goodbye."

 _He belongs here, I don't._ "Tell Kris - I don't know - make something up and tell him I said it." He hesitates then turns to pull her in for a quick hug. "You're amazing, this place is amazing, I've had - I never dreamed it would be this amazing. Thank you." He's out the door before she can call after him, the taxi idling on the road. Adam throws himself in the back and the man pulls away - already briefed by Lane about where he's going.

When Adam leans forward to ask if he can put a CD on, the driver just shrugs and holds out his hand for the disc. Adam's phone bleeps again and he opens the text without thinking.

'u _dnt seem ok. r we cool?'_

His reply blurs even as he's typing it, 'we _'_ re _cool, was just messing around, ddn't realize wat wud happen. Head hurts now, lol. Got 2 go back 2 la, cu asap (: xx'_ he hits send.

Kris's voice echoes through the speakers. Adam curls up on the back seat and as tears prick his eyes he thinks 'thank _god I didn't wear mascara_ , _'_ as though he's okay.

He wonders if Kris is still holding Katy.

Adam's arms feel painfully empty.

*

He calls Drake from the plane. "You and the model," he says instead of hello. "Are you exclusive?"

"He has a name, Adam, I've told you a thousand -"

"But are you?"

There is a thoughtful silence. "No," Drake draws out. "You can come over."

Adam glances across the aisle where his fellow passengers are craning their necks to get a better look at him and starting with the 'hey _, isn't that -_ 's that plague Adam wherever he goes.

He can't face going back to his house, seeing the dark windows and knowing the whole place is empty. He can't lie in Kris's bed and wonder if he ever had Katy there - if he worked out how to block Adam out. "I'm landing in an hour. Can you pick me up?"

Another long silence. "Okay."

Drake lives in a shitty apartment and drives a total wreck but he has warm arms and soft lips. It hurts, and maybe it hurts Kris too but Adam hopes it sends the right message. Kris is with Katy and he should - they should - Adam has been in the way for too long.

He sleeps on Drake's sofa. He's been bonded to Kris for seven months, in love with him for far less than that but he can't remember how it feels to want sex with anyone else.

*

Adam is woken by his ringtone - 'And _it's alright, alright with me'_ \- with a crick in his neck and the bright sunshine scorching his eyelids. "Fuck," he says, pushing himself up on his elbows as a post-it note falls off his forehead.

 _'back l8er. Food in fridge,'_ Drake has scrawled, signing it with a quick sketch of his tattoo the way he always used to. Adam has a pile of his notes somewhere - Drake laughed when he kept them but Adam just winked and said they'd be worth a fortune one day.

His phone has fallen out of his pocket and is digging into the small of his back - _'I know you, better than you know' ¬-_ Adam finds it and answers it without checking the name just to shut up that _damn_ song.

He needs to find a ringtone of 'Leave _you Alone'_ to remind him to stop getting his hopes up and _stop_ thinking about Kris as an actual possibility.

"Mr. Lambert?" comes an unfamiliar female voice, awkward and respectful which suggests it might not be just a crazed fan that has somehow gotten hold of his number. "Is this Adam Lambert?"

Adam sits up and rubs his eyes with one hand. His cheeks are sticky, his head aches. He remembers drinking something brightly coloured and crying into Drake's shirt - also brightly coloured. Fuck. "Speaking," he says - voice hoarse and scratched. He wouldn't be surprised if this fan assumed she had the wrong number anyway.

"My name is Christy," she hesitates. "I'm with Kris Allen's label."

Adam goes from 'Urgh' to alert in an instant, pressing the phone harder against his ear. "What's happened? Is there a problem with sales? Is the tour going badly?"

Christy laughs a little, sounding surprised and pleased. "No, nothing like that, he's still the best selling debut we've ever had. No, I was calling to ask you for a favour. And I know asking you for help with publicity is against the terms of his contract," she adds very quickly. "But I'm not looking for a shout out or anything like that it's just - I know you want the best for him and he listens to you."

"Yes?" Well, he's not so sure about Kris listening to him, but he definitely wants the best for Kris. He wants everything for Kris.

"Could you talk to him about the Europe tour? I know he says he's busy but the band requested him personally, they have a good following built up and we could even schedule some solo shows for the free nights. It's an amazing opportunity and he just keeps saying no."

"What Europe tour?"

There's a long silence. "The... Lifehouse tour? They asked pretty much the day his single dropped. I've been on Kris's case about it for weeks and they keep offering more money and it starts in February so the decision really needs to be made _ASAP_ , if you know what I -"

"I know what you mean," Adam interrupts. Kris was invited on a tour in Europe. Kris was invited to tour with Lifehouse and he turned it down for... for Adam. Once again Adam is between Kris and Kris's career. "How long does he have to decide?"

"I still haven't given the band a concrete answer, but they're starting to look elsewhere. Lane's been no help; Kris is stubborn as a mule. You're literally my last hope. I'm begging you, on my knees for real Lambert. Please, please if you love him this is what he needs. This is _everything._ This is -"

"Okay," Adam interrupts. "Okay, I'll talk to him." He hesitates. "I can't - no guarantees - but I'll try." How long is a Europe tour? Adam could possibly survive for a month, maybe, they've done it before. Sure, he couldn't record, probably wouldn't leave the house since the only thing keeping him going before was Glamnation but he could - he could -

His skin burns, reminding him that he hasn't seen Kris in over three days. He drops his head forward into his hands.

*

He left a handful of clothes at Drake's before they broke up, but apparently Drake had got rid of most of them because on the third day Adam wakes up on the sofa (his neck will never recover, he's sure of it) with a post-it on his bare stomach - _'Go home, get clothes'_ \- and car keys on his crotch. The blanket he was sleeping under is lying on the floor. Adam is very glad he wore clothes to bed.

L.A. traffic is shocking and it's evening before Adam finally pulls up outside his house (not that he left particularly early). The curtains are still drawn downstairs, the door locked. He just has to fill a bag and go. Drake hasn't mentioned anything about kicking him out yet - apparently his boyfriend is working in San Francisco for the next week - so he can go out with Drake's friends for New Years eve, kiss Drake or Brad or a stranger at midnight, keep sleeping on the couch until his neck breaks.

Kris has his next show tomorrow - the first day of the New Year. Adam knows his schedule for the next month, knows every show and where and which ones he could fly out for - ignoring all the studio time and the label snapping at his heels for the next album.

Adam wants to write a thousand songs about loving someone who won't - can't - love you back and then scrap them all so Kris never hears them. He wants to keep Lane busy, take Brad and Cassidy clubbing every night and generally incapacitate anyone who might be looking for a way to break the bond.

He opens the door, flicks on the light and almost jumps out of his skin.

Kris looks up at him from the sofa, hands resting on his guitar but not playing anything. "Hey," he says, low and uncertain. "I wasn't sure if you were going to come back."

"You have a show," Adam says, because it's the first thing he can think to say. "In New York. Tomorrow. You have sound check and rehearsals and - and what are you doing here?"

Kris looks down at his guitar, then back up at Adam. "You weren't answering my calls."

"I texted," Adam says - it was easier to lie in a text than in person. "I've been busy." He stops. "Anyway, you can't - Christy called me."

Kris's eyes drop again. "Oh."

"Do you know how big a deal that tour would be? You can - we've done long distance before. It must be settling by now -" somehow he's crossed the room without realising it and reaches out a hand to touch Kris's shoulder. He has to force himself not to sigh too loudly.

Kris reaches up to rest his hand on top of Adam's. "Yeah?" he says. "Remember Glamnation? Remember what a _month_ was like with us on opposite sides of the same country?"

Adam swallows and tries to pretend like Kris touching his hand isn't the best he's felt in days. "I could come too," he offers. "I can pay my own way, no one even has to know. My album - I can record it after, more time for writing might be - might be better. It can come out next year."

Kris leans forward to put the guitar down on the table and taps the sofa beside him. Adam doesn't have time to hesitate - he barely thinks to walk around the sofa instead of just climbing over the back and having Kris right there, then, _now, now, now._

Kris curls up against him, burying his face against Adam's neck and letting Adam's arms wrap around him. "It's not a big deal," he says. "The album's doing better than I could ever have hoped. There'll be other tours."

Adam kisses his forehead and fights the desire to say _'You should have this tour; you should have your name in lights and bands chasing after you to open for them. You should have everything and I hate that I can't give it to you._ ' "Christy thinks it's a big deal."

"Adam," Kris says, and what he means is 'Can _we just drop it now_?'

Adam doesn't know how to deny Kris what he wants, so he rubs a hand up under Kris's T-shirt. "When do you have to fly out?"

"No one knows I flew in," Kris admits. "Well, Cass because I had to talk to him about the last show and ask where you were because no one -" he looks down at his knees. "You left Arkansas pretty quickly. Did someone say something to you? I know my family, but was there someone else?"

"No," Adam says quickly, rubbing his hand up and down Kris's back to reassure him that everyone in Arkansas is potentially awesome (Not that he believes that, but it's cute that Kris thinks the best of people).

"Oh." He bites his lip, sucking it in a little and Adam's cock twitches. He wants to be sucking that lip, kissing that mouth, take off Kris's stupid shirt and kiss him senseless right here on this damn couch, fall asleep with them and both wake up with cricks in their necks.

"So I guess you were eavesdropping on my conversation with Katy," Kris says, tugging Adam right back to the present. "I don't even know how but -" his cheeks are bright red. "It wasn't, nothing has to change. It isn't like that - I mean it is, but I understand if you - God, I'm shit at this."

They're actually talking about this. They're talking about it and Adam has to somehow be okay out loud, no hiding behind stupid emoticons and text speak. He has to find words and gestures that aren't tugging Kris tighter and screaming _'You're mine, she can't have you, I'll never let go_. _'_

Adam grits his teeth and reminds himself that he was on fucking Broadway and he can _do this._ "It's fine," he says. "I don't mind - I mean I knew - and we'll find a way to break this bond soon. Everything can go back; we don't have to see each other again."

Kris seems to be having difficulty meeting Adam's eyes. "Right," he says, in a small voice. "I guess... yeah. Not seeing each other after - that'll be best. You don't want," He takes a hand off Adam's chest to rub his face with one hand - when was the last time he slept? "I have to catch a plane. Can we..." he drops his eyes to the very unsubtle bulge in Adam's pants. "Before I go?"

Adam pulls him into a kiss, hard and desperate as though he can make Kris forget Katy if he's good enough. If he could just be perfect.

When Kris leaves, Adam takes out his phone and calls Cassidy. "What's this about Kris's last show?"

*

Kris's last show was supposed to be in LA. The label couldn't get the Viper rooms so instead opted for a slightly larger venue. It had been booked for a month and there were a few rumblings about issues with ticket sales but nothing major which would make it clear that something was wrong until a week before the show. Christy had received an email from the head of the venue to say they didn't think there would be a big enough crowd, and they were going to have to cancel the gig.

She'd done some digging and discovered the venue had booked a different show three weeks prior. There were no ticket problems for that one. Adam found this all out at 5am after his NYE show, on the phone to a hysterical Christy who sounded one more disaster away from a complete breakdown.

When Adam told her Kris wasn't going to be able to tour with Lifehouse, she put the phone down on a table and in the distance he could hear the distinct sound of very expensive items being smashed against the floor.

When she picked up the phone again, her voice was clipped and tense like one of Kris's guitar strings pulled taught enough that they were one turn of the peg away from snapping in two. "He's not going to Europe so he can stay here with you."

"It's complicated," Adam says. They had made the decision not to tell Kris's label about the bond on the assumption that he would never be famous enough for it to matter. There had been a general assumption that Kris would never top the charts for singer-songwriter albums or be asked to tour with major bands.

They should have listened to Kris's music earlier.

"There's something going on with you," Christy says - proving that all label execs are psychic. "I don't know what it is, and I don't think I want to know. But somehow you're stopping him from doing what's best for his career, so I figure you owe him one."

"What do you want me to do?"

*

Adam flies out to Iowa to see Kris three days later. Kris isn't playing that night, he's staying in a tiny hotel on the outskirts of the town. The walls are the color of mold and the bed sheets smell uncomfortably of feet but neither of them care all that much. They have time - which they haven't had in too long - to touch, strip slowly, relearn all the small details.

Lying on the bed afterwards; watching _How I Met Your Mother_ and ordering pizzas from Dominoes in lieu of room service; Adam would have been okay if they hadn't done anything more. Kris is warm, half asleep and pliant; lit only by the TV screen and the flashing sign shining in through the window. Colored lights dance across his bare skin, highlighting the muscles of his back, the play of Adam's fingers down his spine.

If Adam relaxes further, he can feel Kris's mind. Not intruding, not in such a way that he knows what Kris is thinking. It's just there, nestled up against his own; comfortable, safe. Maybe this is what a bond is supposed to be, not frantic sex and ruining each other's lives, just soft touches in almost-darkness and the constant reassurance of a mind touching yours, reminding you that you're not alone.

Kris closes his eyes, eyelashes brushing Adam's chest and his fingers loosening on Adam's shoulders as though he might actually be falling asleep. Adam presses his face into Kris's hair, breathing in hotel shampoo and warm skin. "If I never had to move," he says - careful to keep his voice low in case Kris is actually sleeping. "It wouldn't be so bad."

Kris's mouth curves into a smile, but his eyes don't open. "You're not so bad yourself," he says - and Adam can feel every word against his skin.

"I have another show," Adam says - because Kris is awake and it has to be done sometime. "On the same day as your cancelled one. I thought you could come, maybe play a few songs."

"Hmm." Kris shifts a little to get more comfortable, turning his head slightly to the side. "Would that mean we'd have to move eventually?"

Kris is tired enough to be unguarded, and Adam wishes so much that he was the same. "Yes," Kris says. "I would love to come to your show."

Adam holds him close and waits for his breathing to even out as he slips into sleep. One day they're going to split up, Adam will have to be okay with never seeing him again, never touching him again. One day Kris will walk out of his life, and Adam will have to find the words to say 'Goodbye _,_ ' and mean it.

"I love you," Adam whispers. It doesn't mean anything if Kris can't hear it.

*

Kris's flight gets in early afternoon. Adam is supposed to be doing sound check, making sure Allie has her set ready as an opener, checking in with the band to make sure they're happy with everything. He should be examining the stage and rehearsing and all the million and one other jobs that come with trying to organise a concert yourself.

Instead he digs out the keys to Kris's fusion and drives to the airport to pick him up, wearing a plaid shirt and a cap pulled over his eyes on the off chance that nobody recognises him. Kris has one small rucksack and a large guitar case.

"I could only check on bag," he says, in response to Adam's disappointment. "I have clothes at your place, some of us can travel without five bags of accessories, you know."

Adam tugs him in for a kiss. "You just live to upset me, don't you? You're secretly an evil mastermind sent to make me weep with despair for the human race."

Kris laughs into Adam's mouth. "Of course I am. How could you even have doubted me?"

At that point their distracted by fans coming to ask for autographs - apparently Adam gets a whole lot more recognisable when he has Kris on his arm - but it's okay because the guys want signatures and photos from both of them and Kris signs his name as _'Kris Lambert'_ which means Adam has to sign his as 'AdamAllen' which is obviously a terrible, terrible name that Kris is still laughing about when they escape out to the parking lot.

Kris steals his keys off Adam to drop him back at the venue - "Aren't you supposed to be in sound check? No one else can terrorize the head of lighting the way you can, Adam" - but promises that he will go home, have a shower and change clothes before coming back.

"All your Glamnation stuff is at the venue," Adam remembers to add as he climbs out of the car. "Just wear whatever, and don't forget your guitar."

*

Allison has finished her set, there are thousands of people screaming in the audience and the roadies have just finished switching the equipment on stage when Kris comes up behind Adam. Kris has his guitar slung across his shoulder; he's wearing red plaid, washed out jeans and sneakers. He has showered; his hair is still slightly damp at the back of his neck.

"Am I late?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. His fingers come away damp and for a moment Adam can't drag his eyes away from the droplets of water glinting in the backstage lights. "I assumed Orianthi was playing; sorry if I messed everything up."

"You're perfect," Adam says, realizing a moment too late that this might not convey what he intended and a moment later than that that he doesn't actually care at all. "I mean, you're beautiful."

Kris's flush is - if anything - more obvious in the half light of the back stage. He laughs awkwardly, not quite meeting Adam's eyes. "You don't need to - thanks. I should go change."

"No," Adam catches his hands. "Wait here. I have to go out and say something really quickly and that'll - just wait here, okay?" He leans in to catch Kris's lips in a quick kiss which could easily be the last kiss he ever gets if this plan goes badly. Kris's lips part a little under his and kissing him is just as perfect as it always has been.

But he has to tug away, has to straighten his feathered top hat and bounce out onto the stage where a plain microphone is sitting in a stand at centre stage. The crowd roars when he steps up to it and he holds up a hand to quieten them, his eyes darting sideways to check that Kris is standing in the wings, watching him.

"Hello Los Angeles."

The crowd seem to be filling every square inch of the arena, the noise they make double that. Thanks to the lights, Adam can't see clearly to the back of the arena, but he can see some of the signs at the front. 'Kris _Allen forever'_ and 'Shut _that door, I'm in here with Kris Allen,'_ which is possibly inappropriate but Adam doesn't care.

"Now, I know you didn't come out here tonight to see me." He waves his hand at the opposite side of the stage to Kris and Ryland Steen, Chris Torres, Cale Mills, and Andrew DeRoberts walk out, holding instruments and waving at the crowd with a slightly nervous familiarity born of just over a month of touring.

Adam fights the urge to look sideways and see how Kris is taking this. "Now, this concert was thrown together somewhat last minute because a venue dared to say that my boyfriend would have issues drawing in a crowd and I thought you guys should prove them wrong. Somewhere along the way it turned into a surprise Christmas present to the guy who means everything to me so I didn't tell him about this and it's very possible he hates me now but you guys probably still want a concert -" he pauses to let them scream their assent. "So I think we're going to have to beg and plead a whole lot to get him to come out." He raises both hands over his head and starts to clap. "Kris, Kris, Kris, Kris-" the crowd joins in, a whole arena full of people screaming his name and someone in the front row throws a poster onto the stage - one of the ones Adam made at a copy shop with a photo of Kris caught off guard - a subconscious smile on his face - on the top of the Eiffel tower.

Adam holds it up and turns to show it to Kris back stage. To prove to him that Adam's name isn't on it anywhere, that no one knew Adam would be here today and all these people - all this screaming - is for Kris.

Kris's mouth is slightly open and there is a roadie hovering behind him with a stool as though he thinks Kris's legs will give out any moment.

"So, baby," Adam says, the crowd still chanting in the background. "There are a whole lot of people out here who've come to hear you sing."

Kris shakes his head weakly, mouthing the words 'You _'_ re _crazy_ ,' but Adam can feel his surprise, delight and complete awe spilling across the bond. Adam reaches up to put the microphone back on the stand as Kris steps out from behind the curtain.

"I will never forgive you for this," he says in a low voice, as they meet halfway. "How did you do this? Why did you do this? They're really all here for me?"

"Because you deserve all of this," Adam says, gesturing to encompass the crowd and the arena and thousands of people still chanting in time. "Because you're talented and beautiful and you deserve an arena full of people screaming your name." He leans in to kiss Kris because Kris is smiling and it worked out and he _can_.

"Thank you," Kris breathes. "Thank you."

Then he crosses to the microphone, picks up the cable from the ground to plug into his guitar and sings in time with the crowd. " _Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah; yeah, yeah, yeah yeah_."

Adam sits down at the front of the stage to watch the show.

*

Kris falls asleep on Adam as the sun rises over the parking lot, the concert having gone on far longer than anyone could ever have anticipated. Adam had gained a microphone early on - supposedly to do backing for Kris's songs but since he kept forgetting the lyrics it was a complete waste of time and they ended up just using the microphones for banter and the occasional duet. Allison came out when Kris started complaining about losing his voice, his two hour set dragging out longer and longer as the fans kept screaming and Adam kept encouraging him to sing more.

So what was supposed to be a Kris Allen concert had somehow - with complete approval from the fans - turned into a Kradison mix-up evening. Allie's band came back on, Tommy and Monte were located from back stage and any song that any collection of people knew was performed. Allison and Kris sang _The Scientist_ because they had messed around with it on Glamnation; Adam and Allison sang _Slow Ride_ off Idol; Adam and Kris sang _We Are the Champions_ because it was the only song that both Cale and Tommy knew. The three of them dueted on _Crazy,_ which sent the whole crowd into something of a frenzy.

After the show, Kris and Adam had fucked quickly and desperately in the dressing room before racing each other to the stage door where what seemed like half of the audience was gathered to collect autographs, photos, anecdotes and to sing along with them in a continuation of a concert that somehow lasted all night in the tiny parking lot.

At sunrise, Kris was croaking, Adam was almost hoarse and the only music came from Kris's acoustic since everyone else had piled into cars back to the hotel claiming for some reason that they had to get some sleep tonight.

There were only a small handful of fans left as well, none of whom had managed to retain the ability to speak but all of whom were covered in autographs and memorabilia. When Kris falls asleep on Adam's shoulder, Adam carefully extracts the guitar from his hands then takes off his own coat and folds it up, moving out of the way then laying it down and resting Kris's head on it like a pillow.

The fans wave their hands and would probably be saying 'Awwww' very loudly if they could still speak. Adam smiles and kisses them all on the cheek and tells them they're amazing. They blush and scrawl 'You _were too,_ ' and 'We _love_ you' on their autograph books but seem to understand that the concert is over because they leave afterwards and it is down to Adam to shake Kris's shoulder lightly, waking him up enough to get him into a cab where he falls asleep again, his head pillowed on Adam's knee.

Adam isn't at all tired - still buzzing from seeing Kris on stage, singing with him, listening to thousands of people screaming his name - but when they get into the hotel room Kris seems to wake up a little, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching through the doorway as Adam wipes some of the make-up off his face.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," he says softly. "When I said about issues with the show, it wasn't a hint or anything."

Adam brushes above his eye with the wipe and it comes away bright blue. "I know," he says. "But I wanted to."

"Why?" Kris sounds genuinely curious, genuinely confused as though he has no idea. When Adam puts down the wipe and steps back into the main room, Kris is staring into his lap and even when Adam moves in front of him, Kris doesn't look up to met his eyes.

"Because I want you to be happy," Adam says, reaching to touch Kris's cheek. "I want to make you happy, I want to give you everything you've ever wanted."

Kris raises his head and he's smiling, but there are tears glistening in his eyes. "You have," he says softly. "You have no idea." He stops, shakes his head weakly, and then starts again. "When I was thirteen I made a bucket list. I'd just started learning guitar and I wasn't very good and I'm not the most amazing singer so I knew most things on it were ridiculous. I knew I was being far-fetched and stupid, I would never be signed to an indie label. I would never make an EP or an album. I would never play a dingy bar or be discovered in L.A. I never thought I'd go on tour with a group of people I could come to love." He sniffs hard, reaching up to touch Adam's face. "I wrote them, but I never dreamed they would happen. Never dreamed I would play a solo show to an arena full of people, stumble off stage afterward to have sex in my dressing room. I never thought I would really play in the sunrise."

"Kris, don't talk like this. I'm not going to -"

Kris touches a finger to Adam's lips. "You want me to tour and you'll constantly be feeling guilty that I had to turn it down for you. You have to take weeks in the studio to record the perfect album. You want to go to concerts and date other people and live your life."

Adam pushes his hand away. "Not at the cost of yours, Kris, stop talking about this."

"I made a list," Kris presses on. "Of everything I wanted to do before I die. Tonight - every single perfect moment of tonight - was the last thing on it, the best thing on it, more than I ever dared to hope for. There might not be any other way out and I know you don't want to think about it but maybe my death is the only way." He looks sad but sincere, for the first time Adam thinks Kris could go through with it.

Kris couldn't say 'Breakit' at the beginning because he didn't want to die. Now he can, because he wants Adam to live.

"If I had to choose a moment to die," Kris says. "This would be that moment."

Adam pulls him to his feet and kisses him, holding him too tight because every press of Kris's body is another reminder that Kris is here, Kris is alive, Kris is beautiful and perfect and Adam would do anything for him. "If I have to stay with you and only you for the rest of my life to keep you alive," he says. "I will. I will move my life to fit with yours, give up major tours for you, until the end of time for you. Not because I have to, not because I'm scared. Because I want to. Because I want to see your second album, and your headline world tour. I want to see who you turn out to be and if that means getting to keep you to myself forever, I'll do it."

Kris reaches up to take Adam's face in both hands, smiling and laughing through his tears as he leans in for a kiss. "I could live with forever."

They don't sleep for a long time after that; just lie in bed together, touching and tasting and talking. Not about anything important, just tiny things like Adam likes how Kris has faith in people, Kris secretly likes how much Adam cares about how he looks - "It's cute, and part of who you are, you know?".

Adam doesn't say 'I _love you_ ,' but it doesn't matter.

They have forever, after all.

*

It's fitting that the text comes that afternoon. Adam digs out his phone after Kris has kissed him awake and headed into the bathroom to shower. His phone is full of texts, of course, and tweets about the previous night's show - people who went loved it, people who didn't were pissed that Adam didn't say he was going to perform - but the latest is the most interesting because Brad had nothing to do with the show, and he doesn't usually offer congratulations but maybe this time is -

 _'I found some1 who can break the bond.'_

Adam reads it three times before it sinks in. It makes sense - he supposes - in the distant, back end of his mind that Brad would be the one to find an answer. Brad always knew the most interesting people, the ones with the strangest connections.

He reads it a fourth time then sits and stares blankly at the screen while the meaning hits him and his world comes crashing down around his ears.

*

Kris comes out of the bathroom, towelling the back of his neck, caught in the while bathroom lights and the soft gold of the main room. "What are you looking at?" he asks.

"Let's go away," Adam says. "Just you and me. No phones, no internet, no people. Let's just run away from everything for a little while."

For a moment Kris frowns curiously, and then he shrugs it off and smiles. "Okay."

And Adam has him for a little bit longer.

*

They go to a tiny holiday house belonging to one of Adam's old neighbours - it was back before idol, but she had given him a key and promised that he could go there whenever he liked - where the sea licks the cliffs and there are no people in the houses on either side. They swim in the sea which is fucking cold but it doesn't matter because afterwards they shower together and curl up in bed. They watch cute movies, eat trash and have slow, lazy sex in the afternoons.

It's selfish and indulgent and it isn't what Kris would ever ask for, but Adam is so tired of pretending he doesn't want this.

Adam throws his phone into the sea.

*

It doesn't last - nothing ever does. Brad shows up after three days because he lived with Adam at the time so of course she gave him a key as well. He's all bright smiles and talking as though he's arrived with good news. Adam drags it out - getting coffee as slowly as he can, searching for cookies which he knows they don't have and touching Kris at every opportunity because right at this moment he still can.

Brad comes in to see what's happening when Kris has Adam pinned against the oven. Adam's arms are around Kris's waist and Kris's lips are caught against his. Brad sighs loudly and moves forward to drag them apart. "I drove all the way up here to talk to you both, can you at least do me the honour of pretending to listen?" He drags them as far as the table, pushing them both into the chairs. "I've found a magician."

"I should get the coffee," Adam says at the same moment as Kris says. "We have a magician."

If Adam didn't know better, he'd think Kris wanted to avoid this every bit as much as Adam did. But he does know better, he fought this and it caught up with him and the universe clearly wants Kris to be happy.

Adam has never hated the universe before. He sinks back into his seat. "Like Kris said, we have a magician." Ruby from the hospital with her wonderful inability to remove their bond.

Brad sighs. "I mean I've found the magician you need. I've found a magician who can break your bond off without getting rid of it completely."

"We want it gone," Kris interrupts.

Brad rolls his eyes. "You don't want it gone, honey. Gone means it never happened, means you go back to being recently hit by a van and Adam breaks both his legs - don't think I didn't see those videos, Lambert, you were being an idiot and you know it. Breaking it off means it still happened, it just isn't there anymore. It's a lost art, none of the magicians these days are strong enough and the guy I found is technically retired but I went to him and I begged and I may have stalked him a bit and eventually he granted me a phone call." He beams at them. "Apparently I have latent magical potential. He agreed to break your bond on the condition that I become his apprentice."

"When?" Adam asks.

Brad shrugs. "He said he needed twenty four hours to prepare and it took me three days to find you. So as soon as we can get back to L.A. I suppose."

Kris knocks back his chair and walks out the back door, letting it swing shut behind him.

"Is he okay?" Brad asks. "Should I go check on him? Didn't you get my text?"

Adam stares at the closed door. "I threw my phone into the sea."

"Oh." He taps his fingers slowly on the table, Adam can hear it but he can't look around because If he takes his eyes off the door for a moment Kris will come back and - "This is good, right? This is what you wanted?"

Kris isn't coming back. "Yes," Adam lies. "This is good."

He kicks back his chair and heads out to find his boyfriend.

*

Kris is sitting on the rocks by the sea, throwing small stones at the waves. His face is closed, guarded, as though the last five months didn't happen and they're still in an awkward bond with as much distance as possible. Adam sits down next to him, careful not to touch.

He supposes they don't do that anymore. "You should call Christy," he says. "There's still a week before _Lifehouse_ ship out. Was 'open for a major label band' on your bucket list?"

"I can make a new list." He throws the stone hard at the waves. "Brad's going to drive us back to LA, I suppose. We could go straight to the magician, it's not like this is anyone else's business."

"We'll still be friends, right? We don't have to lose everything."

Kris rubs his eyes with one hand. "I don't think that would be a good idea. What would we do together, go to gay bars and read our horoscopes? Or sit in church and watch action movies?"

"Right." Adam looks down at his hands, so close to Kris's knee. He wants to put an arm around Kris's shoulders, run further and further away until no one can ever reach them. "We should go back in."

"I just need a minute."

Adam nods and goes to get up, but Kris's hand lands on his leg before he can stand.

"Stay."

Adam sinks back down, wraps one arm around Kris's shoulder and feels Kris relax against him for the last time. The waves crash against the rocks and the clouds roll back so they can watch the sun sinking slowly on the horizon.

Of all the times Adam nearly said 'I love you', this would be the most perfect. They can still break the bond, there's no pressure, it would be right.

"Okay." Kris drops his small handful of stones to the ground. "Let's go."

"Okay."

*

With hindsight, it's fairly obvious that Brad wouldn't find just any magician. "Ian McKellen," Kris says, staring out the window of Brad's shitty old car. "You found Ian McKellen."

"Sir Ian McKellen," Brad corrects, pulling into the only free parking space available. "I'm sure I mentioned that and if I didn't you've had six hours of awkward silence to ask me."

Adam has spent the last six hours very aware that his hand is barely two inches from Kris's. He can't pull it away because Kris will know something's wrong and he can't or reach forwards because they don't do that anymore so he's just been sitting there trying not to think about it and unable to think of anything else.

A couple of times he tried to think about tomorrow; about waking up without Kris, going through the whole day without Kris, going to bed without talking to Kris once then waking up in the morning to repeat the whole experience.

He can't picture it. And if he can't imagine one day, how is he supposed to imagine the rest of his life? They're going their separate ways; they're not going to see each other again.

He feels sick just thinking about it.

"Adam?" Kris's fingers move half an inch closer to his, but he jerks them back quickly. "We should go. Get this over with." He'd called Christy from the car. Adam hadn't heard a lot, but he thought she might have cried for joy.

Lane hadn't cried when Adam called her. She had just 'Hmmed' a whole lot and said that she'd have to find Kris a new manager. Before she hung up, she had hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Adam had looked over at Kris - his face turned towards the window so Adam wouldn't see - and couldn't say what he was really thinking in case Kris heard. "Yes," he'd said. "I'm sure."

Brad climbs out the car, but doesn't come in with them. "I have to pack for New Zealand," he says. "Room 542, he should be waiting for you." He bounces awkwardly on his toes for a moment then tugs Kris into a tight hug. "I never believed there could be a person as good as you."

Adam turns his head away to give them the semblance of privacy as Kris hugs Brad back. "Say goodbye to Cassidy for me."

Brad sniffed loudly - always one for the overblown emotions. "You could see him yourself."

Adam glances back in time to see Kris pull back, pushing Brad lightly away to end the hug. "Cass would be totally up for whatever," he says. "If you asked him." Kris hugs him once more - a quick squeeze while Brad stands still looking stunned - then moves back, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand. "Let's go."

The hotel is fancy enough that they're watched the whole time they walk through the lobby - Kris in jeans, Adam still wearing flip flops - but no one says anything. Adam inches closer to Kris so they're constantly in a state of not quite touching but they don't get so much as the semblance of privacy until the elevator doors close behind them.

"It's my birthday at the end of the month," Adam says. "You could come back."

The elevator is full of mirrors, but there isn't one on the floor which is a major oversight when Kris won't look up to meet Adam's eyes. "That would be a bad idea."

"What about Allie's in April? Or Cassidy is having a huge party for his in June - he'll invite you, I know he will."

"They're your friends, Adam. You should keep them." He scuffs the floor with one toe. "I _am_ capable of meeting people on my own; I even have my own friends, not that you would know." He throws out the last line like a bitter accusation.

Of all the things Adam thought Kris would be at the end, the one thing he had never considered was angry. "Are you okay? We could wait a few days, talk this over more -"

"You know whenever you went out I would get a text telling me to start drinking? Whenever you were looking tired, someone would tell me to go to sleep. If you were about to do something really stupid on stage, Bill could come into wherever I was with orders from Lane that I was to stay very still, not take any risks and not get so much as a paper cut." He swallows, rubbing his eyes again. He's probably tired, or allergic to something in the cabin and his eyes are hurting. "We should do it today, we should have done it eight months ago."

He looks up at Adam suddenly - eyes red and glistening with tears. Adam doesn't even think, just pulls him close and kisses him. No matter how angry Kris is, how upset or disillusioned, his body still responds. He presses closer, tilts his head back, opens his mouth desperately so Adam can press inside.

Eight months and he knows Kris's body better than anyone's - knows the exact shape of his mouth, where to run his fingers across Kris back so Kris lets out a low moan and presses closer. He knows Kris's cock getting hard against his leg, Kris's fingers tight enough to hurt in his hair. He has memorized every taste, every smell, every feeling and nothing is ever going to match up to that. No one is going to be this right, this perfect, this _Kris._

The lift stops with a low 'bing _'_ and the doors slide open. Kris drops his eyes, slides easily out of Adam's grip, reaching up with one hand to brush the tears off his cheeks.

In the wall of the lift, Adam can see a young man with a mess of dark hair. He can see freckles emerging around smudged foundation; mascara so carefully applied now dark shadows running down both cheeks; lips red and parted, waiting for a kiss that won't come.

He turns away from his reflection. Kris is standing between the doors - holding them open for him. Kris still doesn't wear make-up casually - it looks amazing on him but he doesn't care and Adam shouldn't find that endearing—so there are no stains down his cheeks, but his eyes are red.

Adam steps past him into the corridor. The walk to 542 is slow and awkward, they're too close and whenever they move their arms knock painfully into each other. It hurts and if they weren't bonded it might even leave bruises but Adam doesn't care, he just wishes this one walk could last forever.

It doesn't. It's barely an instant, in the grand scheme of things, and then they're standing outside the room and he's never going to see Kris again. Not at his birthday or Allie's birthday. He isn't going to go to Kris's shows or buy his albums or see his parents. He won't have another Christmas.

This is his last chance to say 'I _love you_.' The one chance he really has to say it and mean it, his last chance to convince Kris to talk away from this door.

"Adam," Kris says suddenly. "There's something I - well you already know, but I want to say it."

"What?"

"I -" Kris turns to look up at him and there's something in his eyes that suggests - but surely Adam's imagining it, surely Kris couldn't -

The door opens. Sir Ian McKellen is standing not two feet from Adam and Adam has dreamed of this moment for so many years but right now he just wishes the man would leave.

"Nothing," Kris says, turning away. "I'll see you on the other side."

*

Sir Ian McKellen insists on sitting them down in the main room and offering them tea. It's probably a British thing but Kris is dabbing his eyes with his sleeve and Adam wishes Sir Ian would just get on with it instead of sitting there with his cup, looking at them. Adam feels horribly like he's been judged and found wanting.

Kris tugs his hand away from his face and sits on it; staring at his hands, his cup, out the window, anywhere except at Adam.

"So you're a magician who played a magician," Adam says, breaking the silence and giving him something to focus on other than Kris. "Can you move metal with your mind as well?"

"I played a wizard," Sir Ian corrects. "And warping metal is hardly more than a parlor trick. Magicians used to have real power; it used to be something you were born into. The standards for a magician these days are so low all you need is a degree and real talent is being left by the wayside."

 _'Real talent like Brad?'_ Adam thinks, but doesn't say it out loud.

"Has Brad explained everything?" Kris asks suddenly. "He said he had but we're just sitting here having _tea_ and I want - can we just get this over with?"

Sir Ian turns his steady gaze on Kris. "Did Brad fully inform you of the consequences of this decision? You will not be able to bond again - not to each other, not to anyone else. Any harm you come to from hereon will be yours to deal with. No more miraculous recoveries."

"Yes. I understand, we understand, that's what we want. I never asked for any of this, I just want my life to be normal." Kris is half out of his chair.

Sir Ian puts down his tea and reaches out to touch Kris's arm. "Any feelings will still be in place," he says softly. "If that's what you're trying to get away from."

Kris sinks back down. "I just want to leave," he says - low, desperate and heartbreaking. "I want to be able to get up, walk out that door and not look back."

Sir Ian sighs and turns to Adam. "And you? You're sure this is what you want? You have had another person sharing your mind for months now and you're asking me to tear that away. You're going to be lonelier than you have ever been in your life. It's going to hurt - not physically, but emotionally - and your only option will be to get through it. Do you need time to think it over?"

Adam looks over at where Kris is lifting his cup in trembling fingers, still keeping his face turned away. "I've had eight months to think it over. Do it."

He sighs again, drains his tea, and stands up. "Very well. Adam, come with me. Kris, the bathroom is through that door if you want to clean up."

*

He leads Adam through into his bedroom. There's a half-packed case in the corner and the bed hasn't been made but the view of dawn over L.A. is to die for. Sir Ian crosses to the case and starts rummaging for something. "Sit on the bed."

Adam sits. "I always wanted to meet you," he says. "I mean, not like this but - I love _lord of the rings._ "

"Thank you." He turns around with a bottle of something which he passes to Adam. "Drink this. Just a few sips. Well, as much as you can get down."

Adam takes one sip, gags and has to force himself to swallow. He wants to throw the bottle away but he's uncomfortably aware of Sir Ian McKellan's eyes resting on him so he takes the bottle and forces two more sips down.

"You're not in love with him?" Ian asks.

Adam almost drops the bottle in his haste to say, "No." But catches it just in time and feels himself flush a little. "I mean I am. In love with him." He swallows. "He's not in love with me. There's a girl, he loves her. He should love her, they're perfect, he's going to marry her."

"I see." He reaches out a hand to touch Adam's shoulder. "You know if I do this, you won't stop being in love with him. He'll walk away, marry his girl, and leave you behind. Your feelings won't go away."

Adam clearly should not have put his make-up on before leaving the beach house. He runs his thumb carefully under his eyes, trying not to smudge it any further. "So I won't stop wanting him to be happy. That's good."

His stomach churns suddenly as though everything inside is spiralling into a tiny knot of pain and - _fuck¬ -_ he doubles over, fingers clawing underneath his shirt to press at burning flesh.

Sir Ian's fingers are painfully tight in his shoulder - five barbs digging into his skin. "This is your last chance to say no, Adam. I can say the procedure went wrong, I can say it's not possible, I will tell Kris whatever you like if you tell me to stop. You can keep this."

 _Yes,_ roars everything in him. _Yes, stop the pain, keep Kris, keep him keep him keep him._ Adam closes his eyes and focuses on Kris's face, soft brown eyes and mouth twisting into a surprised and delighted smile, opening to form the word 'Adam'.

"No," Adam whispers. "No, I can't -" he lets out a low moan of pain and forces out the words Kris could never manage to say. "Break it."

Ian presses three fingers to his temple and he falls back. His limbs feel heavy, his eyelids drifting. He can feel Kris's mind closer than ever; the familiar shape of it: curiosity, relief and betrayal all warring equally.

"I'm going to speak with Kris now," Sir Ian says - his voice coming through thick and blurred like honey. "You'll both fall asleep, and when you wake up it'll be done."

Kris. Kris should be here. Adam can't move his arms but they're cold and Kris should be in them, Kris should always be in them.

The door opens and is left open, Adam can hear voices from the main room. "Drink a few sips of this." There is the sound of something falling. "Here, I've got you, sit down on the sofa. Lie back now, you're going to fall asleep and when you wake up, all of this will be over."

"'s good," Kris's voice is slurred, and it echoes through Adam's mind as well as his ears. "He should be free of me."

Adam can't quite tell where he ends and Kris begins, but he can feel their eyes drifting closed.

"It's a pity," Sir Ian McKellen says, fingers brushing against their brow. "Your bond is the strongest I've seen in years. If only you loved him." Their limbs are getting heavier, the rooms darker.

Kris laughs weakly. "Wrong way round," he says. "If only he loved me." Their head lolls backwards and Adam suddenly feels like he has to get up and do something but he can't think what and moving is so very hard. "Love him. Love him more than anything."

Adam smiles. He's calm, comfortable, warm, Kris is a settled weight in his mind and he's loved. Kris's mind is so full of love and it's all for Adam, Adam can feel it and he opens his mind too so Kris can feel his love there. Inside their head, Kris laughs in delight and his mind is beautiful, perfect, Adam wants to pull it close and keep it safe.

He does, tugging Kris further into him which is both of them. They feel calm, content, at peace for the first time.

"Kris," Sir Ian doesn't sound calm. "Kris don't fall asleep. You need to focus, you need to stay awake. Kris, please. Kris open your eyes, don't you dare fall asleep on me -"

"No way," Kris breathes. "Won't sleep, won't ever sleep again. No sleep, never sleep. Just - give me five minutes." He waves his hand, five fingers held up. "Five minutes and then I'm all..."

The last thing Adam remembers is Sir Ian McKellen calling their names.


	9. Epilogue

_One hour later_

Kris wakes up. That's the first surprise. The second is the pain that hits in a wave stopping him from opening his eyes or doing anything other than screaming. He remembers pain before but it was nothing - _nothing -_ to this.

He's missing something, something big. Maybe someone's chopped off a part of him - an arm or a leg or his heart. No, something more important. Something he can't name but it's gone, it's so very gone.

In the distance, he can hear someone else screaming with him. Closer, there are fingers on his shoulder and a low almost-familiar voice - _Gandalf? -_ calling his name. "Kris, Kris, can you hear me?"

He was going to take something - Kris remembers. He was going to go in and take something away. Kris grabs at him. "Put it back. Please - _God_ \- put it back."

"I _can't_ , Kris."

A van. Kris remembers a van breaking up all his body parts and he wishes that was back, wishes he could have that pain to distract from this one. All that was physical, a few broken bones and a minor case of certain death, but what would it matter when -

He's alone. Oh god he's so alone.

His body shakes and somewhere between the screams, he starts weeping.

*

Someone helps him up, helps him stumble across the floor and into a room where an unfamiliar pair of familiar arms wrap around him. He's rocked back and forth by familiar smells and weights that all seem distant, unreal.

There's a low whimpering in his ear. He presses close to the person. Maybe if he pushes hard enough, if he holds tight enough, if he _wants_ enough he can melt back inside. He can turn to spirit and slide inside and maybe he won't be so alone.

"I love you," Adam pleads. "I love you so much."

Kris presses his face into Adam's neck. He can't make his mouth work, but he hopes Adam knows.

*

Eventually their voices are too hoarse to scream and the tears run dry. They tremble together, pressed close enough to hurt, touching and tasting and trying to remember.

 _Five hours later_

"So what happens now?" Adam asks, his cup rattling on the plate where his shaking hands are closed around it.

Sir Ian McKellen looks at the two of them - huddled together, shaking. "Now is your chance to stay together for the right reasons."

Kris reaches out to place his hand over Adam's. "I love you," he says. "In case that wasn't clear."

Adam turns his head and kisses Kris. It isn't perfect or life changing. It doesn't send thrills through his mind or ease all his aches and pains.

But it's right, nonetheless.

 _Six months later_

"So," the French interviewer says. "Tell us about the matching tattoos."

Kris glances down at his bare wrist where the Eye of Horus is open to the world. "We're touring separately a lot," he says casually. "And this way a part of him is always with me, and a part of me is always with him."

"Are you going to get a copy of Adam's infinity tattoo too?"

"I don't think so." He smiles, tracing the lines on his arm. "But you never know."

"Final question before we move onto the music - are you really friends with Sir Ian McKellen?"

Kris laughs because he'd totally told Adam that if they showed up to the premiere in Ian's limo, people would talk. "He's helped us out of some tough spots before," he says. "And his personal assistant is Adam's ex-boyfriend, so we have connections."

The interviewer smiles and moves on to a new card. "Now, your new single is called _For Better or Worse_ -"

 _Two years later_

Sometimes Kris feels so alone he can hardly breathe. He sits - on the bus sofa, on the stage steps, on an upturned box in a parking lot - and his band sit with him as he calls Adam so they can just talk about nothing for hours. It doesn't make anything go away, but it makes him care less.

Sometimes he dreams a van is hurtling towards him and wakes up, certain that he's dead or about to die. Sometimes he has to sit in the dark and force himself to breathe, pressing his fingers against the Eye of Horus on his wrist until he finds his pulse. Sometimes he wakes Adam up and Adam rolls over to wrap his arms tight around Kris and hold him close.

Occasionally, Kris almost forgets that he was ever bonded at all. He forgets that meeting Adam was sheer chance and for eight months it was the craziest, most twisted emotional roller coaster of his life. All he thinks about during those moments is how lucky he is.

He misses knowing what Adam's thinking, misses the soft reassuring weight in his mind. They both miss being forced to stay together constantly - although their managements don't.

A reporter once asked Adam if he was ever going to bond. Adam just laughed. "Why would we need magic? We have something real."

When Adam breaks his leg doing something stupid, Kris has to visit him in the hospital to yell at him and they break up for twenty four whole hours.

But they get back together - they always get back together - Adam's leg heals and life goes on.

 _Five years later_

The cab pulls up outside their house. Kris leans forward to pay the driver, grabbing his rucksack and guitar off the back seat - he knows Adam will complain and offer to buy him more suitcases but he just wanted to get home quickly. His things will arrive later, or maybe they won't arrive at all. It wouldn't matter, really. Everything he needs is here.

The garden is flourishing; all the plants that were green when Kris left are now decked in flowers or blossom. The stones of the drive crunch beneath his sneakers and he closes his eyes to breath in the familiar smell of home.

Adam will be out the back, by the pool. He'll be wearing swimming shorts so he can pretend to be enjoying the sunshine but will actually be lathered in sun cream and hidden by umbrellas because he hates the fact that he burns in the sun. He'll push himself onto his arms when Kris walks out, his face breaking into a delighted smile before he bounds out of his chair - dropping whatever book he's reading into his drink or the pool or, knowing him, a nearby bucket of slime - as he does so. His arms will be warm as he wraps them around Kris's shoulders. "I wasn't expecting you back until tomorrow at the earliest. How was the tour? How are you? Where are the rest of your bags - oh _Kris_ why do you live to hurt me?"

And that turns out to be pretty much exactly how it happens. They end up curled together on Adam's sun bed, talking about the tour, the garden, Adam's fourth album. The sun is high in the sky, the birds are singing and they both go for a kiss at the same time.

Kris can't read Adam's mind anymore but it turns out he doesn't need a psychic bond to know how Adam is feeling.

When it matters, he knows.


End file.
